Smoothest turf, a sunshine floor,
Dance of cricket ball,
Studies, where we shut the door
On our cosy all.
Hey, the robin, the lark, and the green green grass,
And the ivy that clings to the wall;
Hey, the robin, the lark, and the green green grass,
And the oak, and the ash-tree tall.
Grey old school-house, consecrate
On thy hill afar,
Chapel, keeping solemn state—
Home we go, hurrah!
Hey, the robin, the lark, and the green green grass,
And the ivy that clings to the wall;
Hey, the robin, the lark, and the green green grass,
And the oak, and the ash-tree tall.
XIV.
THE FLAGS.
To him, who wounded turned aside,
It mattered little that he died
In sunshine, in the fair springtide.
On many a grave the flowers are gay,
Oft ruin creeping on his prey
Puts forth a velvet paw in play.
O Flags, ye wrap within your fold
A stranger tale than e’er was told
Of Muses’ sons in days of old.
The homeless school, of fortune braved,
Will aye remember how ye waved
Above them, in the hour that saved.
As long as youth breathes living fire,
As long as scorn is on the liar,
And men can mount from high to higher.
Rest in the school-room, rest, and be
A spirit moving calm and free,
A silent flame of liberty.