 | Words by the Wayside |  |
14
To Haileybury
O School beloved, like some old fairy-tale
Rife with the haunting charm of vanished hours,
Who now a nymph appearest, flushed with flowers
And serenaded of the nightingale,
Now as some Spartan mother stern and pale,
Pointing to death for duty! all our powers
Are dedicate to thee; thy name is ours;
We are thy children who here bid thee hail.
Rife with the haunting charm of vanished hours,
Who now a nymph appearest, flushed with flowers
And serenaded of the nightingale,
Now as some Spartan mother stern and pale,
Pointing to death for duty! all our powers
Are dedicate to thee; thy name is ours;
We are thy children who here bid thee hail.
Living or dead, one host from land and sea
Gathered, men famous, men who toiled obscure,
Or fought for country, priests, and poets pure—
Thy hand, thy star controlled them. O should we
Drift aimless of the end, vouchsafe to be
At once our pilot and our Cynosure!
Gathered, men famous, men who toiled obscure,
Or fought for country, priests, and poets pure—
Thy hand, thy star controlled them. O should we
Drift aimless of the end, vouchsafe to be
At once our pilot and our Cynosure!
| Words by the Wayside | |