Top 10 William Ernest Henley Quotes at QuotationFun

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All William Ernest Henley Quotes

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Here in this dim, dull, double-bedded room, I play the father to a brace of boys, Ailing but apt for every sort of noise, Bedfast but brilliant yet with health and bloom. Roden, the Irishman, is 'sieven past,' Blue-eyed, snub-nosed, chubby, and fair of face. Willie's but six, and seems to like the place, A cheerful little collier to the last. They eat, and laugh, and sing, and fight, all day; All night they sleep like dormice. See them play At Operations:- Roden, the Professor, Saws, lectures, takes the artery up, and ties; Willie, self-chloroformed, with half-shut eyes, Holding the limb and moaning - Case and Dresser.

Children: Private Ward.

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I was told it was his sweetheart. They were on the eve of marriage. She was quiet as a statue, But her lip was grey and writhen

Casualty.

Marriage

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To his bed there came a woman, Stood and looked and sighed a little, And departed without speaking, As himself a few hours after.

Casualty.

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He had fallen from an engine, And been dragged along the metals. It was hopeless, and they knew it; So they covered him, and left him.

Casualty.

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A black and glassy float, opaque and still, The loch, at furthest ebb supine in sleep, Reversing, mirrored in its luminous deep The calm grey skies; the solemn spurs of hill; Heather, and corn, and wisps of loitering haze; The wee white cots, black-hatted, plumed with smoke; The braes beyond - and when the ripple awoke, They wavered with the jarred and wavering glaze. The air was hushed and dreamy. Evermore A noise of running water whispered near. A straggling crow called high and thin. A bird Trilled from the birch-leaves. Round the shingled shore, Yellow with weed, there wandered, vague and clear, Strange vowels, mysterious gutturals, idly heard.

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As he lay, by fits half sentient, Inarticulately moaning, With his stockinged soles protruded Stark and awkward from the blankets,

Casualty.

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Dark aisles, new packs of cards, Mermaidens' tails, cool swards, Dawn dews and starlit seas, White marbles, whiter words - To live, I think of these!

Ballade Made In The Hot Weather.

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Though, if you ask her name, she says Elise, Being plain Elizabeth, e'en let it pass, And own that, if her aspirates take their ease, She ever makes a point, in washing glass, Handling the engine, turning taps for tots, And countering change, and scorning what men say, Of posing as a dove among the pots, Nor often gives her dignity away. Her head's a work of art, and, if her eyes Be tired and ignorant, she has a waist; Cheaply the Mode she shadows; and she tries From penny novels to amend her taste; And, having mopped the zinc for certain years, And faced the gas, she fades and disappears.

Barmaid.

Art, Men

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As with varnish red and glistening Dripped his hair; his feet looked rigid; Raised, he settled stiffly sideways: You could see his hurts were spinal.

Casualty.

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What have I done for you, England, my England? What is there I would not do, England my own?

Pro Rege Nostro.

Patriotism

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