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Poems

by William Ernest Henley
Henley, William Ernest (1849-1903)

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[section]
  
TO MY WIFE
  
[Ask me not how they came]
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IN HOSPITAL
  
THE SONG OF THE SWORD
  
ARABIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS
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BRIC-A-BRAC
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ECHOES
 I. 
I TO MY MOTHER
 II. 
II
 III. 
III
 IV. 
IV I. M. R. T. HAMILTON BRUCE (1846–1899)
 V. 
V
 VI. 
VI
 VII. 
VII
 VIII. 
VIII
 IX. 
IX To W. R.
 X. 
X
 XI. 
XI To W. R.
 XII. 
XII
 XIII. 
XIII
 XIV. 
XIV
 XV. 
XV
 XVI. 
XVI
 XVII. 
XVII
 XVIII. 
XVIII To A. D.
 XIX. 
XIX
 XX. 
XX
 XXI. 
XXI
 XXII. 
XXII
 XXIII. 
XXIII
 XXIV. 
XXIV
 XXV. 
XXV
 XXVI. 
XXVI
 XXVII. 
XXVII
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII To S. C.
 XXIX. 
XXIX To R. L. S.
 XXX. 
XXX
 XXXI. 
XXXI
 XXXII. 
XXXII To D. H.
 XXXIII. 
XXXIII
 XXXIV. 
XXXIV To K. de M.
 XXXV. 
XXXV I. M. MARGARITÆ SORORIS (1886)
 XXXVI. 
XXXVI
 XXXVII. 
XXXVII To W. A.
 XXXVIII. 
XXXVIII
 XXXIX. 
XXXIX
 XL. 
XL
 XLI. 
XLI To R. A. M. S.
 XLII. 
XLII
 XLIII. 
XLIII
 XLIV. 
XLIV
 XLV. 
XLV To W. B. B.
 XLVI. 
XLVI MATRI DILECTISSIMÆ I. M.
 XLVII. 
XLVII
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RHYMES AND RHYTHMS
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HAWTHORN AND LAVENDER
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LONDON VOLUNTARIES
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LONDON TYPES
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THREE PROLOGUES
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FOR ENGLAND'S SAKE
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EPICEDIA
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APPENDIX

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XVIII
To A. D.

The nightingale has a lyre of gold,
The lark's is a clarion call,
And the blackbird plays but a boxwood flute,
But I love him best of all.
For his song is all of the joy of life,
And we in the mad, spring weather,
We two have listened till he sang
Our hearts and lips together.
1876
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