Alfred Noyes

(16 September 1880 – 25 June 1958 / Wolverhamton)

Alfred Noyes Poems

1. Shadow-of-a-Leaf 11/16/2015
2. Unity 4/6/2010
3. The Symphony 4/6/2010
4. The Vindictive 4/6/2010
5. Touchstone On A Bus 4/6/2010
6. Veterans 4/6/2010
7. The Young Friar 4/6/2010
8. The Union 4/6/2010
9. The Trumpet Call 4/6/2010
10. The Big Black Trawler 4/6/2010
11. Republic And Motherland 4/6/2010
12. The Old Meeting House 4/6/2010
13. Wireless. 4/6/2010
14. Victory 4/6/2010
15. The Ballad Of Dick Turpin 4/6/2010
16. Niobe 4/6/2010
17. The Double Fortress 4/6/2010
18. What Grandfather Said 4/6/2010
19. Nippon 4/6/2010
20. The Reward Of Song 4/6/2010
21. Name Sakes 4/6/2010
22. The People's Fleet 4/6/2010
23. The War Widow 4/6/2010
24. The Night Of The Lion 4/6/2010
25. Peace In A Palace 4/6/2010
26. The Inn Of Apollo 4/6/2010
27. Slave And Emperor 4/6/2010
28. The Realms Of Gold 4/6/2010
29. Compensations 4/6/2010
30. The Road Through Chaos 4/6/2010
31. The Phantom Fleet 4/6/2010
32. Memories Of The Pacific Coast 4/6/2010
33. The Avenue Of The Allies 4/6/2010
34. The Ghost Of The New World 4/6/2010
35. The Old Gentleman With The Amber Snuff-Box 4/6/2010
36. The Hills Of Youth 4/6/2010
37. The Escape Of The Old Grey Squirrel 4/6/2010
38. The Old Grey Squirrel 4/6/2010
39. The Companions 4/6/2010
40. Riddles Of Merlin 4/6/2010
Best Poem of Alfred Noyes

The Highwayman

PART ONE

I

THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

II

He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A ...

Read the full of The Highwayman

A Prayer In Time Of War

The war will change many things in art and life, and among them, it is to be hoped, many of our own ideas as to what is, and what is not, "intellectual."

Thou, whose deep ways are in the sea,
Whose footsteps are not known,
To-night a world that turned from Thee
Is waiting -- at Thy Throne.

The towering Babels that we raised
Where scoffing sophists brawl,

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