OFTEN, on afternoons gray and sombre, When clouds lie low and dark with rain, A random bell strikes a chord familiar And I hear the Oxford chimes again. Never I see a swift stream running Cold and full from shore to shore, But I think of Isis, and remember The leaping boat and the throbbing oar. O my brothers, my more than brothers— Lost and gone are those days indeed: Where are the bells, the gowns, the voices, All that made us one blood and breed? Gone—and in many an unknown pitfall You have swinked, and died like men— And here I sit in a quiet chamber Writing on paper with a pen. O my brothers, my more than brothers— Big, intolerant, gallant boys! Going to war as into a boat-race, Full of laughter and fond of noise! I can imagine your smile: how eager, Nervous for the suspense to be done— And I remember the Iffley meadows, The crew alert for the starting gun. Old gray city, O dear gray city, How young we were, and how close to Truth! We envied no one, we hated no one, All was magical to our youth. Still, in the hall of the Triple Roses, The cannel casts its ruddy span, And still the garden gate discloses The message @3Manners Makyth Man.@1 Then I recall that an Oxford college, Setting a stone for those who have died, Nobly remembered all her children— Even those on the German side. That was Oxford! and that was England! Fight your enemy, fight him square; But in justice, honour, and pity Even the enemy has his share. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MEMORABILIA by ROBERT BROWNING FRAGMENT 113 by HILDA DOOLITTLE TO MY DEAR FRIEND, MR. CONGREVE, ON HIS COMEDY, 'THE DOUBLE-DEALER' by JOHN DRYDEN MAIDENHOOD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW A DREAM, OR THE TYPE OF THE RISING SUN by JEAN ADAMS SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 45. A LITTLE WHILE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |