Sir Henry Newbolt

(1862 - 1938 / Bilston / England)

Sir Henry Newbolt Poems

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
21. Gavotte 4/13/2010
22. Gillespie. 4/13/2010
23. Hawke 4/13/2010
24. He Fell Among Thieves 1/3/2003
25. Homeward Bound 4/13/2010
26. Hope The Hornblower 4/13/2010
27. Hymn 4/13/2010
28. Imogen 4/13/2010
29. In July 4/13/2010
30. Ionicus 1/3/2003
31. Ireland, Ireland 1/3/2003
32. Laudabunt Alii 4/13/2010
33. Master And Man 4/13/2010
34. Messmates 4/13/2010
35. Minora Sidera 4/13/2010
36. Moonset 4/13/2010
37. Nel Mezzo Del Cammin 4/13/2010
38. O Pulchritudo 4/13/2010
39. On Spion Kop 4/13/2010
40. Outward Bound 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

Drake's Drum

Drake he's in his hammock an' a thousand miles away,
(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?)
Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios Bay,
An' dreamin' arl the time O' Plymouth Hoe.
Yarnder lumes the Island, yarnder lie the ships,
Wi' sailor lads a-dancing' heel-an'-toe,
An' the shore-lights flashin', an' the night-tide dashin',
He sees et arl so plainly as he saw et long ago.

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