AS I went walking up and down
The darkened streets of Oxford town,
I seemed to see them all astir
With ghosts of those who died for her;
I saw the Scholar and the Blue,
The Smug, the Blood, the Slacker too,
Who, different in all beside,
Were like in this—the way they died.
O Oxford men, from Smug to Blue,
My heart was sore, was sore for you!
And then there came across the years
A voice as through a mist of tears:
"And what of us who wore the gown,
Long since with you in Oxford town?
Should we have died as brave and gay
As those who die for her to-day?"
And I made answer: "Even so!
O friends of thirty years ago.
We too, God helping us, had died
As gay, as nobly satisfied!"
These were the ghosts I seemed to see,
These were the ghosts that talked with me,
As I went walking up and down
The darkened streets of Oxford town.
THEY had so much to lose; their radiant laughter
Shook my old walls—how short a time ago!
I hold the echoes of their song hereafter
Among the precious things I used to know.
Their cup of life was full to overflowing.
All earth had laid its tribute at their feet.
What harvest might we hope from such a sowing?
What noonday from a dawning so complete?