Craven (Sir Henry Newbolt Poems)
Over the turret, shut in his iron-clad tower,Craven was conning his ship through smoke and flame;Gun to gun he had ...
Over the turret, shut in his iron-clad tower,Craven was conning his ship through smoke and flame;Gun to gun he had ...
The Forest above and the Combe below,On a bright September morn!He's the soul of a clod who thanks not GodThat ...
It fell in the year of Mutiny, At darkest of the night, John Nicholson by Jal?ndhar came, On his way ...
With failing feet and shoulders bowed Beneath the weight of happier days, He lagged among the heedless crowd, Or crept ...
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