Gilbert Keith Chesterton

(29 May 1874 – 14 June 1936 / London, England)

Gilbert Keith Chesterton Poems

1. The novels of Jane Austen 10/15/2015
2. Whenever William Cobbett 10/15/2015
3. Sonnet With The Compliments Of The Season 10/24/2014
4. Alliterativism 10/24/2014
5. To Edmund Clerihew Bentley 10/24/2014
6. The Song Of Elf 10/24/2014
7. When Fishes Flew 10/24/2014
8. Confessional 10/24/2014
9. This Is The Sort Of Book We Like 10/24/2014
10. Rotarians 4/15/2012
11. Modern Elfland 4/15/2012
12. Tribute To Gladstone 4/15/2012
13. The New Omar 1/1/2004
14. The Modern Manichee 4/15/2012
15. Jealousy 4/15/2012
16. The Philanthropist 4/15/2012
17. Songs Of Education 4/15/2012
18. The Praise Of Dust 4/15/2012
19. St, Francis Xavier 4/15/2012
20. The Mystery 4/15/2012
21. The New Fiction 4/15/2012
22. The Judgement Of England 4/15/2012
23. The Horrible History Of Jones 4/15/2012
24. To St. Micheal In Time Of Peace 4/15/2012
25. Here Is The Little Door 4/15/2012
26. The Wise Men 4/15/2012
27. The Song Of The Wheels 4/15/2012
28. The Song Of The Oak 1/1/2004
29. A Ballade Of An Anti-Puritan 4/15/2012
30. The Ballad Of St. Barbara 4/15/2012
31. The Myth Of Arthur 1/1/2004
32. A Ballad Of Theatricals 4/15/2012
33. The Ballad Of God-Makers 4/15/2012
34. A Christmas Carol 4/15/2012
35. Cyclopean 4/15/2012
36. The Wife Of Flanders 1/1/2004
37. A Broad Minded Bishop Rebukes The Verminous St. Francis 4/15/2012
38. Variations Of An Air 1/1/2004
39. A Ballad Of Abbreviations 4/15/2012
40. A Word 4/15/2012
Best Poem of Gilbert Keith Chesterton

The Rolling English Road

Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode,
The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road.
A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire,
And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire;
A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread
The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head.

I knew no harm of Bonaparte and plenty of the Squire,
And for to fight the Frenchman I did not much desire;
But I did bash their baggonets because they came arrayed
To straighten out the crooked road an English drunkard ...

Read the full of The Rolling English Road

The Old Song

A livid sky on London
And like the iron steeds that rear
A shock of engines halted
And I knew the end was near:
And something said that far away, over the hills and far away
There came a crawling thunder and the end of all things here.
For London Bridge is broken down, broken down, broken down,
As digging lets the daylight on the suken streets of yore,
The lightning looked on London town, the broken bridge of London

[Report Error]