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.

Say, peace more stern than war demands
Devotion purer, cleaner hands,
Life larger, foot that firmer stands.

Bid Hope his thrilling clarion blow,
And fearless truth in boyhood glow,
And honour send him on his foe.

So life shall foster life, each son
Still better what his sire hath done,
And truth from truth full circle run.