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 N Oxford now the lamps are lit.

The city bells ring low,

And up and down the silent town

The ghosts of friendship go.

With whispering laughs they meet and pass

As we were used to do,

And somewhere in the airy crowd

My spirit walks with you.

The troopers quarter in the rooms

That once were yours and mine,

And you are lying out to-night

Behind the firing-line.

But still in rooms that were our own

We wander, you and I,

And night and day our spirits walk

Along the empty High.