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Henry Newbolt (Генри Ньюболт)


The Schoolfellow


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.



Henry Newbolt's other poems:
  1. Hawke
  2. The Quarter-Gunner's Yarn
  3. Gillespie
  4. Waggon Hill
  5. From Generation to Generation


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