Where Hugli Flows
WHERE Hugli flows, her city’s banks beside
White domes and towers rise on a glittering plain:
The strong, bright sailing-ships at anchor ride,
Waiting to float their cargoes to the main,
Where Hugli flows.
Brown waters, treacherous currents whirling by
The painted fishing-boats haste to and fro,
Brown sails, brown sailors, crimsoned curiously,
Under the all-transfiguring sunset glow,
Where Hugli flows,
Where Hugli flows, our English eyes are weary
Our hearts are sometimes very far away.
Needs must, that exile should be long and dreary
How slow the hours, how lagging long the day,
Where Hugli flows.
Yet, years hence, when the steamer’s screw shall beat
The homeward track, for us without return,
Our bitter bread, by custom almost sweet,
We shall look back, perhaps through tears that burn,
Where Hugli flows.
Calcutta.