Author: Sir Henry Newbolt

Down thy valleys, Ireland, Ireland, Down thy valleys green and sad, Still thy spirit wanders wailing, Wanders wailing, wanders mad. […]

We loved our nightjar, but she would not stay with us. We had found her lying as dead, but soft […]

A Song of the Great Retreat Dreary lay the long road, dreary lay the town, Lights out and never a […]

It was eight bells ringing, For the morning watch was done, And the gunner’s lads were singing As they polished […]

This is the Chapel: here, my son, Your father thought the thoughts of youth, And heard the words that one […]

It fell in the year of Mutiny, At darkest of the night, John Nicholson by Jalбndhar came, On his way […]

With failing feet and shoulders bowed Beneath the weight of happier days, He lagged among the heedless crowd, Or crept […]

There’s a breathless hush in the Close to-night Ten to make and the match to win A bumping pitch and […]