Westminster Boys

Where at the central pulse of England's might
    The Abbey towers stand stately, rears its head
    One column, to the memory of the dead
On forgotten fields of glorious fight;
It stands before the gates that saw them go
    In fullness of strong years to yield their breath, —
Some the sword's toil, some sickness'; all, we know,
    Bravest and best, and over young for death.

Yet it may chance that some, who boys to-day,
    Treading the path to manhood, shall speed forth,
          To stand as these stood, 'neath a stranger sky
In some life-crowning foray far away,
    Remembering that proud pillar in their North,
          May with a joyful soul go forth to die.