Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Best Famous Sir Henry Newbolt Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Sir Henry Newbolt poems. This is a select list of the best famous Sir Henry Newbolt poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Sir Henry Newbolt poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Sir Henry Newbolt poems.

Search for the best famous Sir Henry Newbolt poems, articles about Sir Henry Newbolt poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Sir Henry Newbolt poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See also: Best Member Poems

Go Back

by Sir Henry Newbolt | |

Ireland Ireland

 Down thy valleys, Ireland, Ireland,
Down thy valleys green and sad,
Still thy spirit wanders wailing,
Wanders wailing, wanders mad.
Long ago that anguish took thee, Ireland, Ireland, green and fair, Spoilers strong in darkness took thee, Broke thy heart and left thee there.
Down thy valleys, Ireland, Ireland, Still thy spirit wanders mad; All too late they love that wronged thee, Ireland, Ireland, green and sad.


by Sir Henry Newbolt | |

Ionicus

 With failing feet and shoulders bowed 
Beneath the weight of happier days, 
He lagged among the heedless crowd, 
Or crept along suburban ways.
But still through all his heart was young, A courage, a pride, a rapture, sprung Of the strength and splendour of England's war.
From ill-requited toil he turned To ride with Picton and with Pack, Among his grammars inly burned To storm the Afghan mountain-track.
When midnight chimed, before Quebec He watched with Wolfe till he morning star; At noon he saw from Victory's deck The sweep and splendour of England's war.
Beyond the book his teaching sped, He left on whom he taught the trace Of kinship with the deathless dead, And faith in all the Island race.
He passed : his life a tangle seemed, His age from fame and power was far; But his heart was night to the end, and dreamed Of the sound and splendour of England's war.


by Sir Henry Newbolt | |

The Schoolfellow

 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.


by Sir Henry Newbolt | |

The War Films

 O living pictures of the dead, 
O songs without a sound, 
O fellowship whose phantom tread 
Hallows a phantom ground -- 
How in a gleam have these revealed 
The faith we had not found.
We have sought God in a cloudy Heaven, We have passed by God on earth: His seven sins and his sorrows seven, His wayworn mood and mirth, Like a ragged cloak have hid from us The secret of his birth.
Brother of men, when now I see The lads go forth in line, Thou knowest my heart is hungry in me As for thy bread and wine; Thou knowest my heart is bowed in me To take their death for mine.