Bill is a bright boy;
Do you know Bill?
Marching cheerily
Up and down hill;
Bill is a bright boy
At books and at play,
A right and a tight boy,
All the boys say.
His face is like roses
In flush of the June;
His eyes like the welkin,
When cloudless the noon;
His step is like fountains
That bicker with glee,
Beneath the green mountains,
Down to the sea.
When Bill plays at cricket,
No ball on the green
Is shot from the wicket
So sharp and so clean;
He stands at his station
As strong as a king
When he lifts up a nation
On Victory’s wing.
When bent upon study,
He girds to his books;
No frown ever ploughs
The smooth pride of his looks;
I came, and I saw,
And I conquered at will:
This be the law
For great Cæsar and Bill.
Like Thor with the hammer
Of power in his hand,
He rides through the grammar
Triumphant and grand;
O’er bastions and brambles
Which pedants up-pile,
He leaps and he ambles
Along with a smile.
As mild as a maiden,
Where mildness belongs,--
He’s hot as Achilles,
When goaded by wrongs;
He flirts with a danger,
He sports with an ill,
To fear, such a stranger
Is brave-hearted Bill!
For Bill is a bright boy--
Who is like Bill?
Oft have I marched with him
Up and down hill.
When I hear his voice calling,
I follow him still,
And, standing or falling,
I conquer with Bill!
* * * * *
_Do good by stealth and blush to find it fame._
--_Pope._