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PoetósferaLa BibliotecaEdward Thring

Edward Thring · Modernismo

The Colony

inglés

EAST and west, and north and south,
As if we were shot from a cannon’s mouth,
Hurrah, hurrah! here we all are.
Never was heard in peace or war,
The first in the world are we,
Never, oh, never, was heard before,
Since a ball was a ball,
And a wall a wall,
And a boy to play was free,
That a school as old as an old oak-tree,
Fast by the roots, was flung up in the air,
Up in the air without thought or care,
And pitched on its feet by the sea, the sea,
Pitched on its feet by the sea.

Ere the old school walls were dumb
With the silence of despair,
“March boys, march! the end has come!”
Rang the watchword proud and clear.
We our standard rallied round,
Thrice a hundred faithful found.

Playgrounds—leagues on leagues of shore;
Class-rooms—all the sea-king’s caves;
We are touched by Ariel’s power,
Free of air, and earth, and waves.
We are elves of Ariel’s range,
Nought but suffers a sea change.

Ah! the wand has laid its spell
Over cricket-fields and trees;
Presto!—woods, and mountains, shells,
Rocks, and sea-anemones;
Thrice turn round and shut your eyes,
Open to a fresh surprise.

Open on the level sward
Slid Gogerddan’s {16a} hills between,
When Gogerddan’s genial lord
Looked upon the starry green,
Lady-bright with summer stars,
Heard the schoolboys’ loud hurrahs.

Lo! the panting cricket train
Up the valley slowly creeps,
Lo! a boyish hurricane
E’en o’er Cader Idris sweeps.
Never in the good greenwood
Lived more gaily Robin Hood.

Little bits of fairy world,
Fairy streamlets, dropping rills,
And the Lery {16b} softly curled
In amongst the dreaming hills:
Never in the good greenwood
Lived more gaily Robin Hood.

East and west, and north and south,
As if we were shot from a cannon’s mouth,
Hurrah, hurrah! here we all are.
Never was heard in peace or war,
The first in the world are we,
Never, oh, never, was heard before,
Since a ball was a ball,
And a wall a wall,
And a boy to play was free,
That a school as old as an old oak-tree,
Fast by the roots, was flung up in the air,
Up in the air without thought or care,
And pitched on its feet by the sea, the sea,
Pitched on its feet by the sea.

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Por su autor
Edward Thring · 15 piezas más en la casa
Dónde vive
La Biblioteca

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Autor
Edward Thring
Título
The Colony
Lengua
inglés
Época
Modernismo
Sala
La Biblioteca
Identificador
ws-en-the-colony--edward-thring-26b183
Cita recomendada
Edward Thring, «The Colony», Poetósfera, poetosfera.com/p/ws-en-the-colony--edward-thring-26b183.html

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