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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519291" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Vitaï Lampada</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519291" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night -- <br>Ten to make and the match to win -- <br>A bumping pitch and a blinding light, <br>An hour to play and the last man in. <br>And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat, <br>Or the selfish hope of a season's fame, <br>But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote <br>"Play up! play up! and play the game!" </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519291" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The sand of the desert is sodden red, -- <br>Red with the wreck of a square that broke; -- <br>The Gatling's jammed and the colonel dead, <br>And the regiment blind with dust and smoke. <br>The river of death has brimmed his banks, <br>And England's far, and Honour a name, <br>But the voice of schoolboy rallies the ranks, <br>"Play up! play up! and play the game!" </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519291" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">This is the word that year by year <br>While in her place the School is set <br>Every one of her sons must hear, <br>And none that hears it dare forget. <br>This they all with a joyful mind <br>Bear through life like a torch in flame, <br>And falling fling to the host behind -- <br>"Play up! play up! and play the game!"</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Sir+Henry+Newbolt">Sir Henry Newbolt</a></strong></div>