A Legacy Of Old

Behold she sits on the river’s bed,

Her spirits, high and prudently bred.

She looks towards the lighthouse ashore,

And sighs as the dusk light will gleam and glow.

Her beauty reflects her old stony frame.

She’s aware she is now quite an old name.

For on her lap her founder lay,

Where he’s asleep - where he will stay.

A man of war, a man of fame,

A founder, a giver: an honorable name.

He lays quite still, an undisturbed sleep,

His love, a signed will then to keep.

Fair maiden, now don’t you cry,

For now, on his grounds will your body lie!

His great love for you was genuinely expressed,

His lady, his girl: the maiden he blessed.

A man now lay asleep somewhere,

His regiment’s horse still continues to neigh.

His army men still clad in dirt-colored cloth,

Hearts all brave, many wars to be fought.

She smiles then as her flag unfurls,

Fruits of her labour; now priceless as pearls.

Followers he has now, of his constancy,

As he sets out with his boys, seventy.

A poem dedicated to La Martiniere College, Lucknow