Hubert Newman Wigmore Church was an Australian poet.
Hubert Newman Wigmore Church was born at Hobart, Tasmania, on 13 June 1857, the son of Mary Ann Newman and her husband, Hubert Day Church, a clerk who later became a barrister. In 1865 Hubert was taken to England where he was educated at schools in Guildford and Felstead. He may also have attended Oxford University. When he was 12 he was struck on the head by a cricket ball and became completely deaf. As a result he was thrown largely on his own resources and became an omnivorous reader. In 1873 Church came to New Zealand and studied law at Blenheim. He joined the Colonial Treasurer's Department in ... more »
Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
Hubert Church Poems
To a Sea Shell
Friend of my chamber--O thou spiral shell That murmurest of the ever-murmuring sea! Repeating with eternal constancy Whatever memories the wave can tell;
Rosalind has come to town! All the street’s a meadow, Balconies are beeches brown With a drowsy shadow,
Spring in New Zealand
Thou wilt come with suddenness, Like a gull between the waves, Or a snowdrop that doth press Through the white shroud on the graves;
I am not here alone. A hidden throng Is round me in the vesper of the sky. Dead Babylon and Nineveh are nigh; Rome, Antioch; the slave who felt the thong;
Comments about Hubert Church
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
To a Sea Shell
Friend of my chamber--O thou spiral shell
That murmurest of the ever-murmuring sea!
Repeating with eternal constancy
Whatever memories the wave can tell;
Whatever harmonies may rise and swell,
Whatever sadness in the deep may be--
They are the ocean's, and desired of thee;
Thou treasurest what thou dost love so well.
So all my heart is one voluted fold,
Shielding one face, and evermore it seems
Upon the threshold of the prying day,
Hid in the tangle of reluctant dreams;
And in the noontide, and the evening grey,
Its light illumines secrecies ...