<h2> THE TOWERS OF HOLY CROSS </h2>
<p>(For W. M. Letts)<br/></p>
<p>The roads look up to Holy Cross,<br/>
The sturdy towers look down,<br/>
And show a kindly word to all<br/>
Who pass by Worcester Town;<br/>
And once you'd see the boys at play,<br/>
Or marching cap and gown.<br/>
<br/>
The gallant towers at Holy Cross<br/>
Are silent night and day,<br/>
A few young lads are left behind<br/>
Who still may take their play;<br/>
The Cross and Flag look out afar<br/>
For them that went away.<br/>
<br/>
And mine are gone, says Beaven Hall,<br/>
To camps by hill and plain,<br/>
And mine along by Newport Sea,<br/>
Says the high tower of O'Kane;<br/>
I follow mine, Alumni calls,<br/>
Across the watery main.<br/>
<br/>
Their sires were in the old Brigade<br/>
That won at Fontenoy,<br/>
Stood true at Washington's right hand,<br/>
that were his faith and joy:<br/>
From Holy Cross to Fredericksburg<br/>
Is many a gallant boy.<br/>
<br/>
Then God be with you, says the Cross,<br/>
And the brave towers looking down;<br/>
I'll be your cloth, sings out the Flag,<br/>
For other cap and gown,<br/>
And may we see you safe again,<br/>
On the hills of Worcester Town.<br/></p>
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