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Sir Henry Newbolt

(1862 - 1938 / Bilston / England)

Poems of Sir Henry Newbolt

1. A Ballad of John Nicholson 1/3/2003
2. A Letter From the Front 1/3/2003
3. A Song Of Exmoor 4/13/2010
4. A Sower 4/13/2010
5. Admiral Death 4/13/2010
6. Admirals All 4/13/2010
7. Among The Tombs 4/13/2010
8. April On Waggon Hill 4/13/2010
9. Balade 4/13/2010
10. By The Hearth-Stone 4/13/2010
11. Clifton Chapel 1/3/2003
12. Commemoration 4/13/2010
13. Craven 4/13/2010
14. Drake's Drum 1/3/2003
15. England 4/13/2010
16. Farewell 4/13/2010
17. Felix Antonius 4/13/2010
18. Fidele's Grassy Tomb 4/13/2010
19. For A Trafalgar Cenotaph 4/13/2010
20. From Generation To Generation 4/13/2010

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!"

[Hata Bildir]