Explore "K.L.H." by Paul Bewsher on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Where stern grey busts of gods and heroes old / Frown down upon the corridors' chill stone, / On which the sunbeam's amber pale is thrown / From leaf-fringed windows, one of quiet mould / Gazed long at those white chronicles which told / Of honours that the stately School had known. / He read the names: and wondered if his own / Would ever grace the walls in letters bold.
He knew not that he for the School would gain / A greater honour with a greater price -- / That, no long years of work, but bitter pain / And his rich life, he was to sacrifice -- / Not in a University's grey peace, / But on the hilly sun-baked Chersonese.