Sonnet At Call Of Roll Poem by Adrian Flett

The bell rings, brings us by its toll
to the quad, our presence to express,
around the hallowed square at call of roll
to answer prefect's call, ‘Here' never- yes.
Behind those memorial doors,
voices echo off the old brick walls
of names called down long corridors
as each young voice answers to the call.
They echo still, memories of long ago.
The generations of countless feet
that stood on bricks, worn down low
by those before us, others will repeat,
the press and wear of many more
at times' endless pace, as before.