Ionicus

Poem

by Sir Henry Newbolt

From ill-requited toil he turned
To ride with Picton and with Pack,
Among his grammars only burned
To storm the Afghan mountain-track.

When midnight chimed, before Quebec
He watched with Wolfe till the morning star;
At noon he saw from Victory's deck
The sweep and splendour of England's war.


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© Copyright 1970 by Donald Featherstone.
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