Poems: New and Old (Newbolt)/The School at War
The School at War
All night before the brink of deathIn fitful sleep the army lay,For through the dream that stilled their breathToo gauntly glared the coming day.
But we, within whose blood there leapsThe fulness of a life as wideAs Avon's water where he sweepsSeaward at last with Severn's tide,
We heard beyond the desert nightThe murmur of the fields we knew,And our swift souls with one delightLike homing swallows Northward flew.
We played again the immortal games,And grappled with the fierce old friends,And cheered the dead undying names,And sang the song that never ends;
Till, when the hard, familiar bellTold that the summer night was late,Where long ago we said farewellWe said farewell by the old gate.
"O Captains unforgot," they cried,"Come you again or come no more,Across the world you keep the pride,Across the world we mark the score."