Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Poems

by William Ernest Henley

Henley, William Ernest (1849-1903)

[section]

TO MY WIFE

[Ask me not how they came]

II.

III.

IV.

V OPERATION

VI.

VI AFTER

VII.

VII VIGIL

VIII.

VIII STAFF-NURSE: OLD STYLE

IX.

IX LADY-PROBATIONER

X STAFF-NURSE: NEW STYLE

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.

XVII.

XVIII.

XVIII CHILDREN: PRIVATE WARD

XIX.

XX.

XXI.

XXII.

XXIII.

XXIV.

XXV.

XXVI.

XXVII.

XXVIII.

THE SONG OF THE SWORD

ARABIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS

BRIC-A-BRAC

BALLADE OF A TOYOKUNI COLOUR-PRINT

BALLADE (DOUBLE REFRAIN) OF YOUTH AND AGE

BALLADE (DOUBLE REFRAIN) OF MIDSUMMER DAYS AND NIGHTS

BALLADE OF DEAD ACTORS

BALLADE MADE IN THE HOT WEATHER

BALLADE OF TRUISMS

DOUBLE BALLADE OF LIFE AND FATE

DOUBLE BALLADE OF THE NOTHINGNESS OF THINGS

ATTADALE, WEST HIGHLANDS

FROM A WINDOW IN PRINCES STREET

IN THE DIALS

[The gods are dead? Perhaps they are! Who knows?]

To F. W.

[When you are old, and I am passed away—]

[Beside the idle summer sea]

I. M. R. G. C. B. 1878

[We shall surely die]

[What is to come we know not. But we know]

ECHOES

I TO MY MOTHER

II.

III.

III

IV.

IV I. M. R. T. HAMILTON BRUCE (1846–1899)

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.

XVII.

XVIII.

XIX.

XX.

XXI.

XXII.

XXIII.

XXIV.

XXV.

XXVI.

XXVII.

XXVIII.

XXIX.

XXX.

XXXI.

XXXII.

XXXIII.

XXXIV.

XXXV.

XXXV I. M. MARGARITÆ SORORIS (1886)

XXXVI.

XXXVII.

XXXVIII.

XXXIX.

XL.

XLI.

XLII.

XLIII.

XLIV.

XLV.

XLVI.

XLVI MATRI DILECTISSIMÆ I. M.

XLVII.

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

VII

VIII.

VIII To A. J. H.

IX.

XI.

XII.

XII

XIII.

XIII To JAMES McNEILL WHISTLER

XIV.

XIV To J. A. C.

XV.

XVI.

XVI

XVII.

XVII CARMEN PATIBULARE To H. S.

XVIII.

XVIII I. M. MARGARET EMMA HENLEY (1888–1894)

XIX.

XIX I. M. R. L. S. (1850–1894)

XX.

XXI.

XXII.

XXIII.

HAWTHORN AND LAVENDER

ENVOY

PRÆLUDIUM

II.

III.

III

IV.

VI.

VII.

VII

VIII.

VIII

IX.

XI.

XII.

XII

XIII.

XIII

XIV.

XIV

XV.

XVI.

XVII.

XVIII.

XIX.

XX.

XXI.

XXII.

XXIII.

XXIV.

XXV.

XXVI.

XXVII.

XXVIII.

XXIX.

XXX.

XXXI.

XXXII.

XXXIII.

XXXIV.

XXXV.

XXXVI.

XXXVII.

XXXVIII.

XXXIX.

XL.

XLI.

XLII.

XLIII.

XLIV.

XLV.

XLVI.

XLVII.

XLVIII.

XLIX.

II.

III.

IV.

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

XI.

XII.

XIII.

[The Artist muses at his ease]

II.

III.

II.

II THE MAN IN THE STREET

III.

III PRO REGE NOSTRO

IV.

IV THE LEVY OF SHIELDS

V MUSIC HALL

VI.

VI A NEW SONG TO AN OLD TUNE

VII.

VII ‘OUR CHIEF OF MEN’

VIII.

VIII ‘A HEALTH UNTO HER MAJESTY’

IX.

IN MEMORIAM THOMAS EDWARD BROWN

IN MEMORIAM GEORGE WARRINGTON STEEVENS

IN MEMORIAM REGINAE DILECTISSIMAE VICTORIAE

A SONG OF SPEED

APPENDIX

ECHOES

[In the time of snows]

[The pretty washermaiden]

BRIC-À-BRAC

OF THE FROWARDNESS OF WOMAN

[In the street of By-and-By]

[‘Felicity. Enquire within.]

[We 'll to the woods and gather may]

FORENOON

RAIN

JENNY WREN

[My love to me is always kind]

[With strawberries we filled a tray]

[The leaves are sere, and on the ground]

WITH A FAN FROM RIMMEL'S

VILLANELLE

VILLON'S STRAIGHT TIP TO ALL CROSS COVES

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V
OPERATION

You are carried in a basket,
Like a carcase from the shambles,
To the theatre, a cockpit
Where they stretch you on a table.

Then they bid you close your eyelids,
And they mask you with a napkin,
And the anæsthetic reaches
Hot and subtle through your being.

And you gasp and reel and shudder
In a rushing, swaying rapture,
While the voices at your elbow
Fade—receding—fainter—farther.

Lights about you shower and tumble,
And your blood seems crystallising—
Edged and vibrant, yet within you
Racked and hurried back and forward.

Then the lights grow fast and furious,
And you hear a noise of waters,
And you wrestle, blind and dizzy,
In an agony of effort,

Till a sudden lull accepts you,
And you sound an utter darkness . . .
And awaken . . . with a struggle . . .
On a hushed, attentive audience.