William Ernest Henley

(1849 - 1902 / Gloucester / England)

Poems of William Ernest Henley

161. We Shall Surely Die 4/12/2010
162. We'll go No More A-Roving 4/12/2010
163. What Have I Done For You 4/12/2010
164. What Is To Come 4/12/2010
165. When The Wind Storms By With A Shout 4/12/2010
166. When You Are Old 4/12/2010
167. When You Wake In Your Crib 4/12/2010
168. Where Forlorn Sunsets Flare And Fade 4/12/2010
169. While The West Is Paling 4/12/2010
170. Why, My Heart, Do We Love Her So? 4/12/2010
171. With strawberries we filled a tray -new- 12/16/2014
172. You Played And Sang A Snatch Of Song 4/12/2010
173. Your Heart Has Trembled To My Tongue 4/12/2010


The beach was crowded. Pausing now and then,
He groped and fiddled doggedly along,
His worn face glaring on the thoughtless throng
The stony peevishness of sightless men.
He seemed scarce older than his clothes. Again,
Grotesquing thinly many an old sweet song,
So cracked his fiddle, his hand so frail and wrong,
You hardly could distinguish one in ten.
He stopped at last, and sat him on the sand,

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