Their voice to us who sing of it,
No more its message bears,
But the round world shall ring of it,
And all we are be theirs.
To speak of fame a venture is,
There's little here can bide,
But we may face the centuries,
And dare the deepending tide:
for though the dust that's part of us,
To dust again be gone,
Yet here shall beat the heart of us---
The school we handed on!
We'll honour yet the school we knew,
The best school of all:
We'll honour yet the rule we knew,
Till the last bell call.
For working days or holidays,
And glad or melancholy days,
They were great days and jolly days
At the best school of all.
England
Praise thou with praise unending,
The Master of the Wine;
To all their portions sending
Himself he mingled thine:
The sea-born flush of morning,
The sea-born hush of night,
The East wind comfort scorning,
And the North wind driving right:
The world for gain and giving,
The game for man and boy,
The life that joys in living,
The faith that lives in joy.
Victoria Regina
(June 21st, 1897*)
A thousand years by sea and land
Our race hath served the island kings,
But not by custom's dull command
To-day with song her Empire rings:
Not all the glories of her birth,
Her armed renown and ancient throne,
Could make her less the child of earth
Or give her hopes beyond our own:
But stayed on faith more sternly proved
And pride than ours more pure and deep,
She loves the land our fathers loved
And keeps the fame our sons shall keep.
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