To the Balliol Men Still in Africa

Years ago when I was at Balliol,
  Balliol men - and I was one -
Swam together in winter rivers,
  Wrestled together under the sun.
And still in the heart of us, Balliol, Balliol,
  Loved already, but hardly known,
Welded us each of us into the others:
  Called a levy and chose her own.   

Here is a House that armours a man
  With the eyes of a boy and the heart of a ranger,
And a laughing way in the teeth of the world
  And a holy hunger and thirst for danger:
Balliol made me, Balliol fed me,
  Whatever I had she gave me again:
And the best of Balliol loved and led me,
  God be with you, Balliol men.   

I have said it before, and I say it again,
  There was treason done, and a false word spoken,
And England under the dregs of men,
  And bribes about, and a treaty broken:
But angry, lonely, hating it still,
  I wished to be there in spite of the wrong.
My heart was heavy for Cumnor Hill
  And the hammer of galloping all day long.   

Galloping outward into the weather,
  Hands a-ready and battle in all:
Words together and wine together
  And song together in Balliol Hall.
Rare and single! Noble and few!...
  Oh! they have wasted you over the sea!
The only brothers ever I knew,
  The men that laughed and quarrelled with me.

Balliol made me, Balliol fed me,
  Whatever I had she gave me again;
And the best of Balliol loved and led me,
   God be with you, Balliol men.