Sir Henry Newbolt

(1862 - 1938 / Bilston / England)

The Schoolfellow - Poem by Sir Henry Newbolt

Our game was his but yesteryear;
We wished him back; we could not know
The self-same hour we missed him here
He led the line that broke the foe.

Blood-red behind our guarded posts
Sank as of old and dying day;
The battle ceased; the mingled hosts
Weary and cheery went their way:

"To-morrow well may bring," we said,
"As fair a fight, as clear a sun."
Dear Lad, before the world was sped,
For evermore thy goal was won.


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Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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