Sir Henry Newbolt

(1862 - 1938 / Bilston / England)

Sir Henry Newbolt Poems

41. Peace 4/13/2010
42. Pereunt Et Imputantur 4/13/2010
43. Pereunt Et Imputantur 4/13/2010
44. Rondel - I 4/13/2010
45. Rondel - Ii 4/13/2010
46. San Stefano 4/13/2010
47. Seringapatam 4/13/2010
48. Srahmandazi 4/13/2010
49. The Best School Of All 4/13/2010
50. The Bright Medusa 4/13/2010
51. The Building Of The Temple 4/13/2010
52. The Death Of Admiral Blake 4/13/2010
53. The Echo 4/13/2010
54. The Fighting Téméraire 1/3/2003
55. The Gay Gordons 4/13/2010
56. The Grenadier's Good-Bye 4/13/2010
57. The Guides At Cabul 4/13/2010
58. The King Of England 4/13/2010
59. The Last Word 4/13/2010
60. The Nightjar 3/16/2003
61. The Nile 4/13/2010
62. The Non-Combatant 4/13/2010
63. The Old And Bold 4/13/2010
64. The Old Superb 4/13/2010
65. The Only Son 4/13/2010
66. The Quarter-Gunner's Yarn 4/13/2010
67. The Sailing Of The Long-Ships 4/13/2010
68. The School At War 4/13/2010
69. The Schoolfellow 1/3/2003
70. The Sufi In The City 4/13/2010
71. The Toy Band 1/3/2003
72. The Vigil 4/13/2010
73. The Viking's Song 4/13/2010
74. The Volunteer 4/13/2010
75. The War Films 1/3/2003
76. Vae Victis 4/13/2010
77. Victoria Regina 4/13/2010
78. Vitaï Lampada 1/3/2003
79. Waggon Hill 4/13/2010
80. When I Remember 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

A Letter From The Front

I was out early to-day, spying about
From the top of a haystack -- such a lovely morning --
And when I mounted again to canter back
I saw across a field in the broad sunlight
A young Gunner Subaltern, stalking along
With a rook-rifle held at the read, and -- would you believe it? --
A domestic cat, soberly marching beside him.

So I laughed, and felt quite well disposed to the youngster,

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