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Best Poems Written by Maxwell Dunlop

Below are the all-time best Maxwell Dunlop poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Soldiering On

I have felt the sun come burning,
O'er the sands of Africa,
I have climbed the steps,
Marked by the hand of time.

I have sailed along the river,
The ancient river Nile,
And have walked the route of soldiers
Mile by mile.

I have felt the tropic heat of Burma,
The sweat of jungle war,
And my lot was as the others,
Can't complain.

For we did because we had to,
For the cause was in our hearts,
For the cause was dear,
For dear was Englands name.

I have seen the light rising,
O'er the battlefield,
And the scorching sand,
Mixed with the blood of men.

And I vowed if there be Heaven,
And if be looked upon,
God give heart,
This never comes again.

I have existed in the trenches,
I have felt the cold, cold, night,
Inhaled the stench of hell,
And felt such pain,

I have soldiered through the ages,
When will the answer be,
For soldiers all as pawns,
Will play the game.

I have known the taste of victory,
The comradeship of men,
The closeness all as brothers to the end,

And held the Cross of Valour,
And have felt the touch of shame,
For broken hearts they mourn for broken men.

When in the end be counted,
The mistakes of times gone by,
Give tally to the losses on the way.

For all who served our country.
Be never far from mind,
And Bless'ed be Upon Remembrance Day.

Details | Maxwell Dunlop Poem

Poem For St George's Day

Gone the night, awaken to the morn,
Faded Banners, to the fields reborn.


The light shall not fade on England now,
the fields be forever green,
The character, charm, that is England now,
In my heart means everything.

The rising sun, on the sleepy hills,
the twinkle of morning dew,
The running stream to the rivers flow, 
and on to the sea of blue.

The light shall not fade within my eyes,
nor stifle my mind within,
My ears will not want while still the sound,
Of the song that the blackbird sings

The light shall not fade on castle walls,
or the heroic deeds of man,
The bells will forever ring so clear,
In the churches of our land.

The light shall not fade whilst vigil be
the eye of heaven bright,
For our cause be true, and our loyalty be 
In trust with our Red Crossed Knight.

The light shall not fade on England now 
the fields be forever green
The character, charm that is England now, 
In my heart means everything,

Details | Maxwell Dunlop Poem

St Mary and St Eanswythe 11th Century, Parish Church

Beside remembrance road,
Up rugged steps,
A little further on, 
A gate,
And through,
Along a flagstone path,
Lined by sturdy trees,
Now in their Autumn shades,
And roundabout, 
Gravestones, with Epitaphs,
Some hard to see,
Of past loving thoughts, 
For those through time,
That left this world behind,
Gold heaped beds, crisp to foot,
Lead on, and there,
Within the filtering light,
A door of timber,
Where in, such beauty,
Prized eyes behold,
And all about great calmness,
Absorbs with Godly thoughts,
Within this parish church,
This Holy Ground.

Details | Maxwell Dunlop Poem

Master of Dreams

When at sleep you lie, I bring to you, 
soft music in the still of night,
 and with each whispered word I speak,
 I grant for you the dreams you seek.

A thousand lanterns lights the gloom,
 a thousand ships upon the sea,
 with every wave that breaks the shore, 
a dream I bring to thee.

The past is but a breath away,
so board my ship and come with me,
and we will visit bygone shores, 
A night of dreams I pledge to thee.

Or is it that you wish of me,
 that you may sail the skies above 
and float suspended with the stars
 and seek the path to future love.

A thousand lanterns light the gloom,
 a thousand ships upon the sea,
 with every wave that breaks the shore,
 A dream I bring to thee.

Details | Maxwell Dunlop Poem

To the Springtime Morn

The snow is melting now,
upon the land beyond,
and winters hardness,
breaks to springtime flower,
for time has breached, the pangs, 
of dismal morn,
and soon the land, 
will echo songs of love.



O' to the warmth and scent of flower,
when love is the master of the hour,
when the fields are green in the bright 
of day,
when the streams oncemore flow on 
their way,
O' to the springtime morn.

O' to the springtime morn,
when the days are long,
and life is merry,
and the trees are full, 
with blossom cherry,
O' to the springtime morn.


O' to they who are very busy,
amongst the scented flower,
for they are the ones,
whom compared with love,
make sweet, the springtime hour.

Details | Maxwell Dunlop Poem

When the Ice Melts

When the ice melts,
and the seas have risen,
And this earth so freely given,
The old story that through time be driven,
Comes the decisive blow.

When the World's respect diminished,
The result corruption tasted,
The love for life be wasted,
An end for all.

So comes the final lesson,
Our ears, to, hard of hearing,
Our eyes with lack of seeing,
Our minds obsessed with gaining,
At end the fools.

We are only takers,
Simplicity the maker,
Lifes meaning now confusion,
The world in deep delusion,
'What Mercy will be Given',
The Final Call!

Details | Maxwell Dunlop Poem

The Hand of Winter

The golden leaves of Autumn now are falling,
crisp beds upon the forests dampened floor,
Winters hand will soon be in the meadows, 
for Summers passed another year once more.

Life is quiet and now the winds are stirring, 
sounds of distant cries upon the lake, 
Summertime seems lost and gone forever, 
But once again in spring it will awake.

As I walk along the golden pathways, 
by the ruin and the mossy bank,
Where to times gone by, the mind so wanders, 
for this was where the wary traveller drank.

I can see the sign upon the doorway,
eat the drink what may before the fall,
For as in ages gone along the highway,
Winter hangs it's ice upon the wall.

Still the water runs beneath the bridges,
and a twig or two comes drifting by,
still I hear a sound way down the river,
as a pair of wings make leave to fly.

Now the skies are grey oe'r gloomy treetops,
gone now is the sound of mating call, 
gone the light and sunshine of a springtime,
now onward comes the white of winter fall.

Now the dark of night is drawing nigh me,
as I turn the track and make my way,
and once again, I think of cold bleak winter, 
then hurry back to where the homefires lay.