To freshen memories waxing somewhat vague;
But men say, "Shun old England like the plague."
Lord knoweth Hind is not a place of pleasure
Nor such a land as men forsake with tears;
Lord knoweth how we venerate and treasure
The English memory down the Indian years;
Yet now the mail pours forth in flowing measure
England's un-Englishness, and in our ears
Echo the words of men returned from leave,
Describing Englands one can scarce believe.