Sir Henry Newbolt

[Henry Newbolt] (1862 - 1938 / Bilston / England)

Sir Henry Newbolt Poems

1. The Building Of The Temple 4/13/2010
2. The Sailing Of The Long-Ships 4/13/2010
3. The Only Son 4/13/2010
4. The Quarter-Gunner's Yarn 4/13/2010
5. The Sufi In The City 4/13/2010
6. The Echo 4/13/2010
7. Rondel - Ii 4/13/2010
8. Laudabunt Alii 4/13/2010
9. Peace 4/13/2010
10. The Last Word 4/13/2010
11. The Viking's Song 4/13/2010
12. The Old And Bold 4/13/2010
13. The Non-Combatant 4/13/2010
14. When I Remember 4/13/2010
15. The School At War 4/13/2010
16. The Death Of Admiral Blake 4/13/2010
17. Rondel - I 4/13/2010
18. Victoria Regina 4/13/2010
19. The Guides At Cabul 4/13/2010
20. Minora Sidera 4/13/2010
21. The Volunteer 4/13/2010
22. The King Of England 4/13/2010
23. The Nile 4/13/2010
24. The Vigil 4/13/2010
25. Moonset 4/13/2010
26. Hymn 4/13/2010
27. San Stefano 4/13/2010
28. Srahmandazi 4/13/2010
29. The Bright Medusa 4/13/2010
30. Vae Victis 4/13/2010
31. The Grenadier's Good-Bye 4/13/2010
32. In July 4/13/2010
33. Nel Mezzo Del Cammin 4/13/2010
34. Pereunt Et Imputantur 4/13/2010
35. Messmates 4/13/2010
36. Outward Bound 4/13/2010
37. On Spion Kop 4/13/2010
38. Master And Man 4/13/2010
39. Hope The Hornblower 4/13/2010
40. Seringapatam 4/13/2010

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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,
And England's ...

Read the full of Vitaï Lampada

He Fell Among Thieves

‘Ye have robb’d,’ said he, ‘ye have slaughter’d and made an end,
Take your ill-got plunder, and bury the dead:
What will ye more of your guest and sometime friend?’
‘Blood for our blood,’ they said.

He laugh’d: ‘If one may settle the score for five,
I am ready; but let the reckoning stand till day:
I have loved the sunlight as dearly as any alive.’
‘You shall die at dawn,’ said they.

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