Sir Henry Newbolt Poems

Do ye ken hoo to fush for the salmon?
If ye'll listen I'll tell ye.
Dinna trust to the books and their gammon,
They're but trying to sell ye.
...

'Hark ye, hark to the winding horn;
Sluggards, awake, and front the morn!
Hark ye, hark to the winding horn;
The sun's on meadow and mill.
...

Dear Earth, near Earth, the clay that made us men,
The land we sowed,
The hearth that glowed---
O Mother, must we bid farewell to thee?
...

Among the woods and tillage
That fringe the topmost downs,
All lonely lies the village,
Far off from seas and towns.
...

He gave us all a good-bye cheerily
At the first dawn of day;
We dropped him down the side full drearily
When the light died away.
...

Bernard, if to you and me
Fortune all at once should give
Years to spend secure and free,
...

Drake in the North Sea grimly prowling,
Treading his dear _Revenge's_ deck,
Watched, with the sea-dogs round him growling,
...

Whisper it not that late in years
Sorrow shall fade and the world be brighter,
Life be freed of tremor and tears,
...

His beauty bore no token,
No sign our gladness shook;
With tender strength unbroken
The hand of Life he took:
...

Beside the placid sea that mirrored her
With the old glory of dawn that cannot die,
The sleeping city began to moan and stir,
...