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| Eighty Pound Bond I What are you Roslyn High? I gaze at you From the street As you rise above me A brick and mortar thing Strong against the bulge Of Harbor Hill |
| II You are more than a building ‑‑‑ That, I know. Some say you are just Roslyn, Yet, I do not, For a name in itself has no meaning. |
| III Four years have I passed with you And I am soon to be gone. |
| IV Of me, dear Alma Mater, Write in life's diary . . . |
| V Scuffing along the halls Against the jam of shoving students, The clasping, warm handshake Of friendly, open hands . . . The silence of fans in bleachers Ever fervent to the humbling end. The throbbing pulsebeat And the hopes and hidden tears --- The blinding of a million dreams. |
| VI Write of me . . . Of elections, plays and proms, The old songs, and the music That I carry in my heart. |
| VII When I creep along my way With a trillion different fears, The peace, the noise, the motion, And a thousand people's talk, Then of me, dear Alma Mater Write in life's diary, What all of this meant --- Roslyn High. |
| VIII But above all, in triplicate, On eighty‑pound bond, Write, You are to me What I have made you. |
