Alfred Noyes

(16 September 1880 – 25 June 1958 / Wolverhamton)

Alfred Noyes Poems

41. Sherwood 1/3/2003
42. Slave And Emperor 4/6/2010
43. Song 1/3/2003
44. Sunlight And Sea 4/6/2010
45. The Admiral's Ghost 12/9/2003
46. The Avenue Of The Allies 4/6/2010
47. The Ballad Of Dick Turpin 4/6/2010
48. The Barrel-Organ 1/3/2003
49. The Big Black Trawler 4/6/2010
50. The Companions 4/6/2010
51. The Double Fortress 4/6/2010
52. The Elfin Artist 1/1/2004
53. The Escape Of The Old Grey Squirrel 4/6/2010
54. The Ghost Of The New World 4/6/2010
55. The Highwayman 1/3/2003
56. The Hills Of Youth 4/6/2010
57. The Humming Birds 4/6/2010
58. The Inn Of Apollo 4/6/2010
59. The Island Hawk 4/6/2010
60. The Little Roads 4/6/2010
61. The Loom Of Years 4/6/2010
62. The Lost Battle 4/6/2010
63. The Man Who Discovered The Use Of A Chair 4/6/2010
64. The Matin-Song Of Friar Tuck 1/3/2003
65. The Moon Is Up 4/6/2010
66. The New Duckling 4/6/2010
67. The Night Of The Lion 4/6/2010
68. The Old Fool In The Wood 4/6/2010
69. The Old Gentleman With The Amber Snuff-Box 4/6/2010
70. The Old Grey Squirrel 4/6/2010
71. The Old Meeting House 4/6/2010
72. The Open Door 4/6/2010
73. The People's Fleet 4/6/2010
74. The Phantom Fleet 4/6/2010
75. The Realms Of Gold 4/6/2010
76. The Reward Of Song 4/6/2010
77. The Road Through Chaos 4/6/2010
78. The Searchlights 1/3/2003
79. The Sussex Sailor 1/3/2003
80. The Symphony 4/6/2010
Best Poem of Alfred Noyes

The Highwayman

PART ONE

I

THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

II

He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A ...

Read the full of The Highwayman

A Prayer In Time Of War

The war will change many things in art and life, and among them, it is to be hoped, many of our own ideas as to what is, and what is not, "intellectual."

Thou, whose deep ways are in the sea,
Whose footsteps are not known,
To-night a world that turned from Thee
Is waiting -- at Thy Throne.

The towering Babels that we raised
Where scoffing sophists brawl,

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