Mist and Moon
Why should the mist rise from the stream.
A lyric on its bars!
And steal from every wave the gleam,
Begot by lover stars.
O see the moon ascend the sky!
The vapour tremble, burn,
A chrysoprase enamoured lie,
Above transfigured fern.
On tree and stream, a glory shed,
That jewels wave and leaf,
For sorrow is with beauty wed,
And joy is born of grief.
Dear flag! Old flag! O, the blue and white,
Floating in the years long gone,
How our pulses beat,
Mocking at defeat,
Following the standard on.
Proud flag, New flag, purple and the gold
Shouting past the legions go,
Carried onward fleet
Knowing no retreat,
Flouting at the winds that blow.
Old flag, New flag, colours of the sky
Gleaming as the seasons roll,
Morning's blue attire,
Sunset's purple fire,
Golden braid on eve's dark stole.
Clear voice, young voice, ringing through the school,
Fluting in the sweet time flown,
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