The Schoolfellow

Sir Henry Newbolt

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. 

Next 10 Poems

• Sir Henry Newbolt : The Toy Band
• Sir Henry Newbolt : The War Films
• Sir Henry Newbolt : Vita Lampada
• Ovid : Disappointment
• Ovid : Duplicity
• Ovid : Elegy For Tibullus
• Ovid : Elegy V
• Ovid : Love And War
• Ovid : Love In The Afternoon
• Ovid : Metamorphoses

Previous 10 Poems

• Sir Henry Newbolt : The Nightjar
• Sir Henry Newbolt : The Fighting Tmraire
• Sir Henry Newbolt : Ireland, Ireland
• Sir Henry Newbolt : Ionicus
• Sir Henry Newbolt : He Fell Among Thieves
• Sir Henry Newbolt : Drake's Drum
• Sir Henry Newbolt : Clifton Chapel
• Sir Henry Newbolt : A Letter From The Front
• Sir Henry Newbolt : A Ballad Of John Nicholson
• Pablo Neruda : Your Feet