( AS SEEN FROM THE TRAIN )

I SAW the spires of Oxford
— As I was passing by,
The gray spires of Oxford
— Against a pearl-gray sky.
My heart was with the Oxford men
— Who went abroad to die.

The years go fast in Oxford,
— The golden years and gay,
The hoary Colleges look down
— On careless boys at play.
But when the bugles sounded war
— They put their games away.

They left the peaceful river,
— The cricket-field, the quad,
The shaven lawns of Oxford
— To seek a bloody sod —
They gave their merry youth away
— For country and for God.

God rest you, happy gentlemen,
— Who laid your good lives down,
Who took the khaki and the gun
— Instead of cap and gown.
God bring you to a fairer place
— Than even Oxford town.