Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THIRD REUNION POEM, by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE



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THIRD REUNION POEM, by            
First Line: Oh, some are here and some are there, they are scattered
Last Line: And clink and drink while heartstrings link for the best of dartmouth classes.
Subject(s): Dartmouth College; Poetry & Poets; Reunions


OH, some are here and some are there, they are scattered the whole world over,
But the word we give to all that live is the luck of the four-leaf clover;
We are gathered now to take the vow that the men of Oughty-Seven
Shall stand as friend to the very end, till we meet in God's high heaven.

We are out on the long, long road
With its rough rocks and sharp turning,
Each with the weight of his load
And a soul with life-fires burning,
Out in the brunt of the storm
Of the wide world's fierce endeavor,
But the heart of each man is warm
And it will be warm forever.

Oh, some are strong with cheer and song, and some are sick with sorrow,
And some have gone in silence on, and they rise not with to-morrow,
But in what land our comrades stand, they raise today their glasses
And clink and drink while heartstrings link for the best of Dartmouth classes.

One mile, — two miles, — three, —
We have left their tales behind us,
And whatever their records be,
To this no cloud shall blind us, —
That we must aspire to do
A work that is good and glorious,
And to our ideals be true
And hope for the goal victorious.

For some shall bleed in sorest need as onward they go in battle,
And some shall come with flag and drum unharmed through rage and rattle,
But whether our fate be pain and hate, or gold and fame and pleasure,
Beneath all skies we still must rise to a Dartmouth man's full measure.

Then we will join hands for strength,
(They win who are best united),
As we go down the road's long length
Till the gleam of the goal be sighted,
And each man will give of his blood,
As his dear Alma Mater has given,
For a world's better brotherhood
And the honor of Oughty-Seven.

Oh, some are here and some are there, they are scattered the whole world over,
But the word we give to all that live is the luck of the four-leaf clover,
For in what land our comrades stand, they raise to-day their glasses
And clink and drink while heartstrings link for the best of Dartmouth classes.





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