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FRIEND if all these verses die: Soon will you, and soon will I But, if any word should live, Then that word to you I give.
Herbert Asquith was an English poet, novelist and lawyer. Biography He was the second son of H. H. Asquith, British Prime Minister — with whom he is frequently confused — and younger brother of Raymond Asquith. His wife Lady Cynthia Asquith, whom he married in 1910, the daughter of Hugo Richard Charteris, 11th Earl of Wemyss (1857–1937), was also a writer. Asquith was greatly affected by his service with the Royal Artillery in World War I. His poems include "The Volunteer" and "The Fallen Subaltern", the latter being a tribute to fallen soldiers. His books include "Roon" and "Young Orland".)
Herbert Asquith şiirleri
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UP and down, up and down They go, the gray rat, and the brown. The telegraph lines are tangled hair, Motionless on the sullen air…
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UNDER the stars the armies lie asleep: Between the lines a quiet river flows Through brakes of honeysuckle, and of rose, And fields where poppies droop in languor deep:…
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A ship sails up to Bideford; Upon a western breeze, Mast by mast, sail over sail, She rises from the seas,…
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THE far guns boom: shell-struck the church is rolled Skyward athunder, dust of rose and gold: The staring villa stands. So goes the War: The limelight lives: extinguished is the st…
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OLD Man, your pearls are not for us, Your rubies die too soon: Have you the pearls of Sirius, Or opals of the moon?…
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WHEN first I saw you, in eclipse, A veil about your head, And wondered at those unseen lips With wit bediamonded:…
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Hooded in angry mist, the sun goes down: Steel-gray the clouds roll out across the sea: Is this a Kingdom? Then give Death the crown, For here no emperor hath won, save He.
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FAREWELL, the village leaning to the hill, And all the cawing rooks that homeward fly ; The bees; the drowsy anthem of the mill The willows winding under April sky !…
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FILL up, fill up the stirrup-cup! The wine is running free: The blue veils of the Spring are out; She dances on the sea.…
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Mourn not for these, the children of the spring : On Flemish plains and far Aegean sand, Mourn not for these, who had no perishing ! Hang high their swords in churches greatly span…
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HOODED in angry mist, the sun goes down: Steel-gray the clouds roll out across the Sea: Is this a Kingdom? Then give Death the crown, For here no emperor hath won, save He.…
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THE sea-breeze beating on her brow, The foam asurge her shining feet, She stood,-a silver Victory, Poised high on some Athenian prow,…
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(TO A CHILD) LOVE be thy charioteer: In all thy brightening and thy darkening hours…
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SHE lay beneath an apple tree, A marble maiden, free from care; And round her was a canopy Of moonlit air.…
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