WHY  JES US  WE PT 
 
 
 
 
I 
 
 
In vain I sit by Kandy Lake. 
The broad verandah slides to mist. 
No tropic rapture strikes awake 
The grim soul’s candour to insist 
The pen reluctant.  Beauty’s task 
Is but to praise the peace of earth ; 
If Horror’s contrast that should ask, 
Off from this Paradise of mirth ! 
Let Kandy Lake, the white soul, mirror 
The generalised concept, limn clear 
England, a memory clean of error, 
A royal reason to be here. 
Therefore no reminiscence stirs 
My heart of when I lived in Kandy. 
Europe’s the focus now !  that blurs 
The picture of my Buddhist dandy, 
Allan, who broke his wand of flame,