Alfred Noyes

(16 September 1880 – 25 June 1958 / Wolverhamton)

Alfred Noyes Poems

41. The Loom Of Years 4/6/2010
42. The Little Roads 4/6/2010
43. The Avenue Of The Allies 4/6/2010
44. The Island Hawk 4/6/2010
45. Moving Through The Dew 4/6/2010
46. The New Duckling 4/6/2010
47. The Ballad Of Dick Turpin 4/6/2010
48. Beethoven In Central Park 4/6/2010
49. An Open Boat 4/6/2010
50. Old Japan 4/6/2010
51. The Old Fool In The Wood 4/6/2010
52. On The Western Front 4/6/2010
53. Sunlight And Sea 4/6/2010
54. Lines For A Sun-Dial 4/6/2010
55. To A Successful Man 4/6/2010
56. The Hills Of Youth 4/6/2010
57. The Man Who Discovered The Use Of A Chair 4/6/2010
58. The Lost Battle 4/6/2010
59. Haunted In Old Japan 4/6/2010
60. The Open Door 4/6/2010
61. Cotton-Wool 4/6/2010
62. Dedication : To The Memory Of Cecil Spring-Rice 4/6/2010
63. Fashions 4/6/2010
64. Alzuna 4/6/2010
65. On A Mountain Top 4/6/2010
66. Immortal Sails 4/6/2010
67. Cap'N Storm-Along 4/6/2010
68. Epilogue 4/6/2010
69. Peace 4/6/2010
70. Fishers Of Men 4/6/2010
71. A New Madrigal To An Old Melody 4/6/2010
72. At Dawn 4/6/2010
73. The Moon Is Up 4/6/2010
74. Dead Man's Morrice 4/6/2010
75. The Searchlights 1/3/2003
76. The Sussex Sailor 1/3/2003
77. To The R.A.F 1/3/2003
78. Princeton, May, 1917 1/3/2003
79. The Matin-Song Of Friar Tuck 1/3/2003
80. The Elfin Artist 1/1/2004
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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