Alfred Noyes

(16 September 1880 – 25 June 1958 / Wolverhamton)

Alfred Noyes Poems

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