To My Schoolmate, Who left us too Early

To Mary Landa Adapted from A.E. Houseman’s “To an Athlete Dying Young” From your friend, Ellen The time you won your town’s swim race We chaired you through the market place; Coach and team stood cheering by And home we brought you shoulder high. Today, the meet all swimmers come, Shoulder high we bring you home, And set you at your threshold down, Citizen of a stiller town. Smart lass, to slip betimes away From pools where glory does not stay And early though the laurel grows It withers quicker than the rose. Eyes the shady night has shut Cannot see the record cut, And silence sounds no worse than cheers After earth has stopped the ears. Now you will not swell the rout Of those who wore their honors out, Swimmers whom renown out swam And the name died before the lass. So set, before its echoes fade, The fleet form on the sill of shade, And hold to the low lintel up The still defended challenge cup. And round that early laurelled head Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead, And find unwithered on its curls The garland briefer than a girl’s.