lirik lagu lord byron - tim graham - cricket at harrow
high through those elms, with h~~ry branches crowned
fair ida’s bower adorns the landscape round;
there science, from her favoured seat, surveys
the vale where rural nature claims her praise;
to her awhile resigns her youthful train
who move in joy, and dance along the plain
in scattered groups each favoured haunt pursue
repeat old pastimes, and discover new;
flushed with his rays, beneath thе noon~tide sun
in rival bands, between the wickеts run
drive o’er the sward the ball with active force
or chase with nimble feet its rapid course
alonzo! best and dearest of my friends
thy name enn0bles him who thus commends;
from this fond tribute thou canst gain no praise;
the praise is his who now that tribute pays
oh! in the promise of thy early youth
if hope antic~p~te the words of truth
some loftier bard shall sing thy glorious name
to build his own upon thy deathless fame
friend of my heart, and foremost of the list
of those with whom i lived supremely blest
oft have we drained the font of ancient lore;
though drinking deeply, thirsting still the more
yet, when confinement’s lingering hour was done
our sports, our studies, and our souls were one:
together we impelled the flying ball;
together waited in our tutor’s hall;
together joined in cricket’s manly toil
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