Sir Henry Newbolt

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

Sir Henry Newbolt Poems

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

Drake's Drum

Drake he's in his hammock an' a thousand miles away,
(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?)
Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios Bay,
An' dreamin' arl the time O' Plymouth Hoe.
Yarnder lumes the Island, yarnder lie the ships,
Wi' sailor lads a-dancing' heel-an'-toe,
An' the shore-lights flashin', an' the night-tide dashin',
He sees et arl so plainly as he saw et long ago.

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