Sir Henry Newbolt

[Henry Newbolt] (1862 - 1938 / Bilston / England)

Sir Henry Newbolt Poems

1. The Grenadier's Good-Bye 4/13/2010
2. The Echo 4/13/2010
3. Laudabunt Alii 4/13/2010
4. The Sailing Of The Long-Ships 4/13/2010
5. The Gay Gordons 4/13/2010
6. The Sufi In The City 4/13/2010
7. The Quarter-Gunner's Yarn 4/13/2010
8. The Death Of Admiral Blake 4/13/2010
9. Rondel - I 4/13/2010
10. Victoria Regina 4/13/2010
11. The Guides At Cabul 4/13/2010
12. Minora Sidera 4/13/2010
13. The King Of England 4/13/2010
14. Rondel - Ii 4/13/2010
15. When I Remember 4/13/2010
16. The Only Son 4/13/2010
17. The Building Of The Temple 4/13/2010
18. Srahmandazi 4/13/2010
19. San Stefano 4/13/2010
20. Hymn 4/13/2010
21. Vae Victis 4/13/2010
22. The Non-Combatant 4/13/2010
23. The School At War 4/13/2010
24. Nel Mezzo Del Cammin 4/13/2010
25. The Last Word 4/13/2010
26. The Volunteer 4/13/2010
27. Pereunt Et Imputantur 4/13/2010
28. Messmates 4/13/2010
29. The Old And Bold 4/13/2010
30. Peace 4/13/2010
31. Moonset 4/13/2010
32. Outward Bound 4/13/2010
33. The Viking's Song 4/13/2010
34. The Bright Medusa 4/13/2010
35. On Spion Kop 4/13/2010
36. Master And Man 4/13/2010
37. In July 4/13/2010
38. Seringapatam 4/13/2010
39. The Vigil 4/13/2010
40. The Old Superb 4/13/2010
Best Poem of Sir Henry Newbolt

Vitaï Lampada

There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night --
Ten to make and the match to win --
A bumping pitch and a blinding light,
An hour to play and the last man in.
And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat,
Or the selfish hope of a season's fame,
But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote
"Play up! play up! and play the game!"

The sand of the desert is sodden red, --
Red with the wreck of a square that broke; --
The Gatling's jammed and the colonel dead,
And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.
The river of death has brimmed his banks, ...

Read the full of Vitaï Lampada

He Fell Among Thieves

‘Ye have robb’d,’ said he, ‘ye have slaughter’d and made an end,
Take your ill-got plunder, and bury the dead:
What will ye more of your guest and sometime friend?’
‘Blood for our blood,’ they said.

He laugh’d: ‘If one may settle the score for five,
I am ready; but let the reckoning stand till day:
I have loved the sunlight as dearly as any alive.’
‘You shall die at dawn,’ said they.

[Report Error]