Poems

By William Ernest Henley

This anthology of William Ernest Henley’s poetry features some of the most beautiful and deeply moving pieces in the Victorian writer’s collection.

First published in 1898, this collection includes the poems William Ernest Henley wrote during and inspired by his time spent in hospital after suffering complications from tuberculosis. His left leg was amputated when he was just 16 and after complications arose with his diseased right foot, he refused to repeat the procedure. The writer produced pieces with vivid imagery and poignant messages based on his tragic personal experience. His In Hospital anthology contains some of the earliest free-verse poems in English literature, and focused on the aftermaths of major surgery and amputation. Delve into the poet’s world and discover some of the most beautiful poetry of the Victorian era.

This volume features poetry from the following anthologies:

- In Hospital

- Echoes

- London Voluntaries - To Charles Whibley

• Language: English
• Publisher: White Press
• Release date: Feb 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781473397248

Book preview

PoemsHenley_FC.jpg

Poems

by

William Ernest Henley

Copyright © 2013 Read Books Ltd.

This book is copyright and may not be

reproduced or copied in any way without

the express permission of the publisher in writing

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

Contents

Poems

William Ernest Henley

DEDICATION

ADVERTISEMENT

IN HOSPITAL

I—ENTER PATIENT

II—WAITING

III—INTERIOR

IV—BEFORE

V—OPERATION

VI—AFTER

VII—VIGIL

VIII—STAFF-NURSE: OLD STYLE

IX—LADY-PROBATIONER

X—STAFF-NURSE: NEW STYLE

XI—CLINICAL

XII—ETCHING

XIII—CASUALTY

XIV—AVE CAESER!

XV—’THE CHIEF’

XVI—HOUSE-SURGEON

XVII—INTERLUDE

XVIII—CHILDREN: PRIVATE WARD

XVIIII—SCRUBBER

XX—VISITOR

XXI—ROMANCE

XXII—PASTORAL

XXIII—MUSIC

XXIV—SUICIDE

XXV—APPARITION

XXVI—ANTEROTICS

XXVII—NOCTURN

XXVIII—DISCHARGED

ENVOY

THE SONG OF THE SWORD

ARABIAN NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS

BRIC-A-BRAC

BALLADE OF A TOYOKUNI COLOUR-PRINT

BALLADE (DOUBLE REFRAIN) OF YOUTH AND AGE

BALLADE (DOUBLE REFRAIN) OF MIDSUMMER DAYS AND NIGHTS

BALLADE OF DEAD ACTORS

BALLADE MADE IN THE HOT WEATHER

BALLADE OF TRUISMS

DOUBLE BALLADE OF LIFE AND FATE

DOUBLE BALLADE OF THE NOTHINGNESS OF THINGS

AT QUEENSFERRY

ORIENTALE

IN FISHERROW

BACK-VIEW

CROLUIS

ATTADALE WEST HIGHLANDS

FROM A WINDOW IN PRINCES STREET

IN THE DIALS

THE GODS ARE DEAD

LET US BE DRUNK

WHEN YOU ARE OLD

BESIDE THE IDLE SUMMER SEA

THE WAYS OF DEATH ARE SOOTHING AND SERENE

WE SHALL SURELY DIE

WHAT IS TO COME

ECHOES

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XX

XXI

XXII

XXIII

XXIV

XXV

XXVI

XXVII

XXVIII

XXIX

XXX

XXXI

XXXII

XXXIII

XXXIV

XXXV

XXXVI

XXXVII

XXXVIII

XXXIX

XL

XLVI

XLII

XLIII

XLIV

XLV

XLVI

XLVII

LONDON VOLUNTARIES—To Charles Whibley

I—GRAVE

II—ANDANTE CON MOTO

III—SCHERZANDO

IV—LARGO E MESTO

V—ALLEGRO MAESTOSO

RHYMES AND RHYTHMS

PROLOGUE

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XX

XXI

XXII

XXIII

XXIV

XXV

EPILOGUE

William Ernest Henley

William Ernest Henley was born on 23rd August 1849, in Gloucester, England.

He attended Crypt Grammar School in Gloucester where the poet, scholar, and theologian, T. E. Brown, was headmaster. Brown had a made a huge impression on the young Henley and the two struck up a lifelong friendship. Henley claimed Brown to be a man of Genius – the first I’d ever seen, and upon Brown’s death in 1897, Henley wrote an admiring obituary to him in the New Review.

From the age of 12, Henley suffered from tuberculosis of the bone which eventually resulted in his left leg having to be amputated below the knee. According to Robert Louis Stevenson’s letters, the character of Long John Silver was inspired by his friend Henley.

In 1867, Henley passed the Oxford Local Schools Examination and set off to London to establish himself as a journalist. Unfortunately, his career was frequently interrupted by long stays in hospital due to a diseased right foot which he refused to have amputated. During a three year stay at the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh, Henley wrote and published his collection of poetry In Hospital (1875). This publication is noteworthy in particular for being some of the earliest examples of free verse written in England.

Henley married Hannah (Anna) Johnson Boyle on 22nd January 1878. The couple had one daughter together, Margaret, who died at the age of five and is reportedly the source of the name Wendy in J. M. Barrie’s Peter Pan. Apparently she used to call Barrie her fwendy wendy, resulting in the use of the name in the children’s classic.

Henley’s best-remembered work is his poem Invictus, written in 1888. It is a passionate and defiant poem, reportedly written as a demonstration of resilience following the amputation of his leg. This poem was famously recited to fellow inmates at Robben Island prison by Nelson Mandela to spread the message of empowerment and self-mastery. He also wrote a notable work of literary criticisms, Views and Reviews, in 1890, in which he covered a wide range of works by prominent authors.

Henley died of tuberculosis in 1903 at the age of 53 at his home in Woking, and his ashes were interred in his daughter’s grave in the churchyard at Cockayne Hatley in Bedfordshire, England.

DEDICATION

—TO MY WIFE

Take, dear, my little sheaf of songs,

For, old or new,

All that is good in them belongs

Only to you;

And, singing as when all was young,

They will recall

Those others, lived but left unsung -

The bent of all.

W. E. H

APRIL 1888

SEPTEMBER 1897.

ADVERTISEMENT

My friend and publisher, Mr. Alfred Nutt, asks me to introduce this re-issue of old work in a new shape. At his request, then, I have to say that nearly all the numbers contained in the present volume are reprinted from ‘A Book of Verses’ (1888) and ‘London Voluntaries’ (1892-3). From the first of these I have removed some copies of verse which seemed to me scarce worth keeping; and I have recovered for it certain others from those publications which had made room for them. I have corrected where I could, added such dates as I might, and, by re-arrangement and revision, done my best to give my book, such as it is, its final form. If any be displeased by the result, I can but submit that my verses are my own, and that this is how I would have them read.

The work of revision has reminded me that, small as is this book of mine, it is all in the matter of verse that I have to show for the years between 1872 and 1897. A principal reason is that, after spending the better part of my life in the pursuit of poetry, I found myself (about 1877) so utterly unmarketable that I had to own myself beaten in art, and to addict myself to journalism for the next ten years. Came the production by my old friend, Mr. H. B. Donkin, in his little collection of ‘Voluntaries’ (1888), compiled for that East-End Hospital to which he has devoted so much time and energy and skill, of those unrhyming rhythms in which I had tried to quintessentialize, as (I believe) one scarce can do in rhyme, my impressions of the Old Edinburgh Infirmary. They had long since been rejected by every editor of standing in London—I had well-nigh said in the world; but as soon as Mr. Nutt had read them, he entreated me to look for more. I did as I was told; old dusty sheaves were dragged to light; the work of selection and correction was begun; I burned much; I found that, after all, the lyrical instinct had slept—not died; I ventured (in brief) ‘A Book of Verses.’ It was received with so much interest that I took heart once more, and wrote the numbers presently reprinted from ‘The National Observer’ in the collection first (1892) called ‘The Song of the Sword’ and afterwards (1893), ‘London voluntaries.’ If I have said nothing since, it is that I have nothing to say which is not, as yet, too personal—too personal and too a afflicting—for utterance.

For the matter of my book, it is there to speak for itself:-

‘Here’s a sigh to those who love me

And a smile to those who hate.’

I refer to it for the simple pleasure