Alpha--Omega

Curly head, and laughing eyes,--
Mischief that all blame defies.

Cricket,--footer,--Eton-jacket,--
Everlasting din and racket.

Tennis,--boating,--socks and ties,--
Tragedies,--and comedies.

Business,--sobered,--getting on,--
One girl now,--The Only One.

London Scottish,--sporran,--kilt,--
Bonnet cocked at proper tilt.

Dies Irae!--Off to France,--
Lord,--a safe deliverance!

Deadly work,--foul gases,--trenches;
Naught that radiant spirit quenches.

Letters dated "Somewhere--France,"--
Mud,--and grub,--and no romance.

Hearts at home all on the quiver,
Telegrams make backbones shiver.

Silence!--Feverish enquiry;--
Dies Irae!--Dies Irae!

His the joy,--and ours the pain,
But, ere long, we'll meet again.

Not too much we'll sorrow--for
It's both "à Dieu!" and "au revoir!"

William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham)

William Arthur Dunkerley, better known by his pen name John Oxenham, was an English journalist, novelist, and poet. He was a prolific writer in the early 20th century, producing a wide range of literary works including poetry, hymns, and novels. His works often reflected Christian themes and were popular during his time. Dunkerley also contributed to the establishment of the Boys' Brigade, a notable youth organization in the UK. His legacy includes a significant contribution to both literature and social causes.

William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham)

Macedonia, 1903

William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham), Simple Poetry

Christ's All!

William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham), Simple Poetry

The Burdened Ass

William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham), Simple Poetry

Burden-Bearers

William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham), Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Hail!--And Farewell!

They died that we might live,--
Hail!--And Farewell!
--All honour give
To those who, nobly striving, nobly fell,
That we might live!

That we might live they died,--
Hail!--And Farewell!
--Their courage tried,
By every mean device of treacherous hate,
Like Kings they died.

Eternal honour give,--
Hail!--And Farewell!--
--To those who died,
In that full splendour of heroic pride,
That we might live!

William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham)

The Last Despatch.

Hurrah! the Season's past at last;
At length we've "done" our pleasure.
Dear "Pater," if you only knew
How much I've longed for home and you,--
Our own green lawn and leisure!

And then the pets! One half forgets
The dear dumb friends--in Babel.
I hope my special fish is fed;--
I long to see poor Nigra's head
Pushed at me from the stable!

I long to see the cob and "Rob,"--
Old Bevis and the Collie;
And won't we read in "Traveller's Rest"!
Home readings after all are best;--
None else seem half so "jolly!"

One misses your dear kindly store
Of fancies quaint and funny;
One misses, too, your kind bon-mot;--
The Mayfair wit I mostly know
Has more of gall than honey!

How tired one grows of "calls and balls!"
This "tou...

Henry Austin Dobson

Ode - 'On A Distant Prospect' Of Making A Fortune.

Now the "rosy morn appearing"
Floods with light the dazzled heaven;
And the schoolboy groans on hearing
That eternal clock strike seven:-
Now the waggoner is driving
Towards the fields his clattering wain;
Now the bluebottle, reviving,
Buzzes down his native pane.

But to me the morn is hateful:
Wearily I stretch my legs,
Dress, and settle to my plateful
Of (perhaps inferior) eggs.
Yesterday Miss Crump, by message,
Mentioned "rent," which "p'raps I'd pay;"
And I have a dismal presage
That she'll call, herself, to-day.

Once, I breakfasted off rosewood,
Smoked through silver-mounted pipes -
Then how my patrician nose would
Turn up at the thought of "swipes!"
Ale, - occasionally claret, -
Graced my luncheon then:- and now
...

Charles Stuart Calverley

The Meeting-Place

(A Warning)

I saw my fellows
In Poverty Street,--
Bitter and black with life's defeat,
Ill-fed, ill-housed, of ills complete.
            And I said to myself,--
"Surely death were sweet
To the people who live in Poverty Street."

I saw my fellows
In Market Place,--
Avid and anxious, and hard of face,
Sweating their souls in the Godless race.
            And I said to myself,--
"How shall these find grace
Who tread Him to death in the Market Place?"

I saw my fellows
In Vanity Fair,--
Revelling, rollicking, debonair,
Life all a Gaudy-Show, never a care.
            And I said to myself,--
"Is there place for these
In my Lord's well-appointed policies?"

I saw my fellows
In Old Church Row,--
Hot in di...

William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham)

Flora's Bit

Flora, with wondrous feathers in her hat,
Rain-soaked, and limp, and feeling very flat,
With flowers of sorts in her full basket, sat,
Back to the railings, there by Charing Cross,
And cursed the weather and a blank day's loss.

"Wevver!" she cried, to P.    C.    E.    09,--
"Wevver, you calls it?--Your sort then, not mine!
I calls it blanky 'NO.' So there you are,--
Bit of Old Nick's worstest particular.
Wevver indeed!    Not much, my little son,
It's just old London's nastiest kind of fun.

"Vi'lets, narcissus, primroses and daffs,--
See how they sits up in their beds an' laughs!
Buy, Pretty Ladies--for your next at 'ome!
Gents!--for the gells now--buy a pretty bloom!

"Gosh!--but them 'buses is a fair disgrace,
Squirting their dirty mud into...

William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham)

The Rubaiyat Of Ohow Dryyam With Apologies To Omar

I

Wail! for the Law has scattered into flight
Those Drinks that were our sometime dear Delight;
And still the Morals-tinkers plot and plan
New, sterner, stricter Statutes to indite.


II

After the phantom of our Freedom died
Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried:
"Drink coffee, Lads, for that is all that's left
Since our Land of the Free is washed--and dried."


[Illustration:

And still the Morals-tinkers plot and plan
New, sterner, stricter Statutes to indite.]


III

The Haigs indeed are gone, and on the Nose
That bourgeoned once with color of the rose
A deathly Pallor sits, while down the lane
Where once strode Johnny Walker--Water goes.


IV

Come, fill the Cup, a...

J. L. Duff