April on a Waggon Hill
Henry Newbolt, Poems: New and Old (London: John Murray, 1912): 95-96. PR 5103.N4A17 Robarts Library
1Lad, and can you rest now,
2 There beneath your hill?
3Your hands are on your breast now,
4 But is your heart so still?
5'Twas the right death to die, lad,
6 A gift without regret,
7But unless truth's a lie, lad,
8 You dream of Devon yet.
9Ay, ay, the year's awaking,
10 The fire's among the ling,
11The beechen hedge is breaking,
12 The curlew's on the wing;
13Primroses are out, lad,
14 On the high banks of Lee,
15And the sun stirs the trout, lad,
16 From Brendon to the sea.
17I know what's in your heart, lad,--
18 The mare he used to hunt--
19And her blue market-cart, lad,
20 With posies tied in front--
21We miss them from the moor road,
22 They're getting old to roam,
23The road they're on's a sure road
24 And nearer, lad, to home.
25Your name, the name they cherish?
26 'Twill fade, lad, 'tis true:
27But stone and all may perish
28 With little loss to you.
29While fame's fame you're Devon, lad,
30 The Glory of the West;
31Till the roll's called in heaven, lad,
32 You may well take your rest.
Publication Start Year:
The Island Race, 1907
RPO poem Editors: