"PLAY UP! PLAY UP! AND PLAY THE GAME!"
There's a breathless hush in the Close tinight. Ten to make, and the match to win; A bumping pitch and a blinding light, An hour to play, and the last man in. And it's not for ttte sake of a ribbon'd coat, Or the selfish hope of a season's fame, But his' Captain's haud on his shoulder smote: "Play up! play up! and play the game!*' The sand of the desert is sodden red— Red with the wreck- of a square that broke; The Catling's jammed, and the, Colonel dead, And the regiment blind with dutt and snfoke. The rive" of death has brimmed his banks, And England's far, and Honor's a name, But the roice of a scholbpy rallied the ranks: "Play up! play up! and play the game!" This is the word, that year by year, While in her place the school is set, Every one of her sons must hear, And none that hears it dare forget. This, they all with a joyful mind 1 Bear through life, like a torch in flame, And, falling, fling to the host behind: "Play up! play up! and play the game!" —Henry Newbolt.
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/ESD19090104.2.84
Bibliographic details
Evening Star, Issue 13149, 4 January 1909, Page 8
Word Count
201"PLAY UP! PLAY UP! AND PLAY THE GAME!" Evening Star, Issue 13149, 4 January 1909, Page 8
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