Verse
About
Follow
Twitter
Facebook
Sign Out
Sir Henry John Newbolt
A Ballad of John Nicholson
It fell in the year of Mutiny, / At darkest of the night, / John Nicholson by Jalándhar came,
A Song Of Exmoor
The Forest above and the Combe below, / On a bright September morn! / He's the soul of a clod who thanks not God
A Sower
With sanguine looks / And rolling walk / Among the rooks
Ad Matrem Dolorosam
Think not thy little fountain's rain / That in the sunlight rose and flashed, / From the bright sky has fallen again,
Admiral Death
Boys, are ye calling a toast to-night? / (Hear what the sea-wind saith) / Fill for a bumper strong and bright,
Admirals All
Effingham, Grenville, Raleigh, Drake, / Here's to the bold and free! / Benbow, Collingwood, Byron, Blake,
Against Oblivion
Cities drowned in olden time / Keep, they say, a magic chime / Rolling up from far below
Among The Tombs
She is a lady fair and wise, / Her heart her counsel keeps, / And well she knows of time that flies
Amore Altiero
Since thou and I have wandered from the highway / And found with hearts reborn / This swift and unimaginable byway
An Essay on Criticism
'Tis hard to say if greater waste of time / Is seen in writing or in reading rhyme; / But, of the two, less dangerous it appears
Previous
Page 1 of 11
Next