Hope The Hornblower
"Hark ye, hark to the winding horn;
Sluggards, awake, and front the morn!
Hark ye, hark to the winding horn; The sun's on meadow and mill.
Follow me, hearts that love the chase;
Follow me, feet that keep the pace:
Stirrup to stirrup we ride, we ride, We ride by moor and hill."Huntsman, huntsman, whither away?
What is the quarry afoot to-day?
Huntsman, huntsman, whither away, And what the game ye kill?
Is it the deer, that men may dine?
Is it the wolf that tears the kine?
What is the race ye ride, ye ride, Ye ride by moor and hill?"Ask not yet till the day be
What is the game that's forward fled,
Ask not yet till the day be dead The game we follow still.
An echo it may be, floating past;
A shadow it may be, fading fast:
Shadow or echo, we ride, we ride, We ride by moor and hill"
Sir Henry Newbolt
Other author posts
Farewell
Mother, with unbowed head Hear thou across the sea The farewell of the dead, The dead who died for thee Greet them again with tender words and grave, For saving thee, themselves they could not save To keep the house unharmed Their f...
Rondel - II
(from the French of Wenceslas, Duke of Brabant and Luxembourg, who died in 1384 )Long ago to thee I Body, soul, and all I have--- Nothing in the world I keep:
Laudabunt Alii
(After Horace)Let others praise, as fancy wills, Berlin beneath her trees, Or Rome upon her seven hills, Or Venice by her seas; Stamboul by double tides embraced, Or green Damascus in the waste
From Generation To Generation
O Son of mine, when dusk shall find thee bending Between a gravestone and a cradle's head---Between the love whose name is loss unending And the young love whose thoughts are liker dread,---Thou too shalt groan at heart that all thy spending Canno...
