Sir Henry Newbolt
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|
|7.||The Grenadier's Good-Bye||4/13/2010|
|8.||Rondel - Ii||4/13/2010|
|11.||The Last Word||4/13/2010|
|12.||The Viking's Song||4/13/2010|
|13.||The Gay Gordons||4/13/2010|
|14.||The Old And Bold||4/13/2010|
|16.||When I Remember||4/13/2010|
|17.||The School At War||4/13/2010|
|18.||The Death Of Admiral Blake||4/13/2010|
|19.||Rondel - I||4/13/2010|
|21.||The Guides At Cabul||4/13/2010|
|24.||The King Of England||4/13/2010|
|29.||The Bright Medusa||4/13/2010|
|32.||Nel Mezzo Del Cammin||4/13/2010|
|34.||Pereunt Et Imputantur||4/13/2010|
|39.||On Spion Kop||4/13/2010|
|40.||Master And Man||4/13/2010|
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 ...
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.