Robert Nichols

Robert Nichols

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Robert Malise Bowyer Nichols (6 September 1893 – 17 December 1944) was an English writer, known as a war poet of the First World War, and a playwright.
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All the loud winds were in the garden wood,
All shadows joyfuller than lissom
Doubled in chasing, all exultant
That ever flung fierce mist and eddying
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Meanwhile, though nations in distress Cower at a comet's loveliness Shaken across the midnight sky;
Though the wind roars, and Victory,
A virgin fierce, on vans of gold Stoops through the cloud's white smother rolled Over the armies' sho...
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Evenstar, still
If this twilight thou dost
On a more unhappy head,
On tears lonelier than mine,
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AS round the cliff I came
The whole bay bared its blaze to me;
Loud sang the wind, the wild sun
The tumbled clouds fled scattering on,
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It was deep night, and over Jerusalem's low roofs The moon floated, drifting through high vaporous woofs
The moonlight crept and glistened silent, solemn, sweet,
Over dome and column, up empty, endless street;
In the closed, scented...
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The beating of the guns grows louder
"Not long, boys, now
"My heart burns whiter, fearfuller, prouder;
Hurricanes
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Not a sign of life we
In any square close-shuttered
That flanks the road we amble
Toward far trenches through the town
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'Be warned
I feel the world grow old,
And off Olympus fades the gold Of the simple passionate sun;
And the Gods wither one by one;
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How beautiful it is to wake at night, When over all there reigns the ultimate spell Of complete silence, darkness absolute, To feel the world, tilted on axle-tree, In slow gyration, with no sensible sound, Unless to ears of unimagined beings, Resi...
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Exquisite stillness
What
Of earth and air
How bright atop the
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I must remember now how once I woke To find the harsh lamplight stream upon her bed,
The ceiling tremble in its giddy smoke,
And on the wall the agile spider spread,
To hear the reverberate vault of silence shake Beneath the hollow ...
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He lay, and those who watched him were
To see unheralded beneath the
Twin tears, new-gathered at the price of pain,
Start and at once run crookedly
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upon seeing a portrait of
Something moves in his dust,
Flame sleeps beneath the crust;
O whence had he those
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Put by the sun my joyful soul,
We are for darkness that is whole;
Put by the wine, now for long
We must be thirsty with salt tears;
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1
In the Grass:
Halt by the
In my tired, helpless bodyI feel my sunk heart ache;
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Was there love once
I have forgotten her
Was there grief once
Grief yet is mine
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