Vitaï Lampada

There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night—
Ten to make and the match to win—
A bumping pitch and a blinding light,
An hour to play and the last man in.
And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat,
Or the selfish hope of a season's fame,
But his captain's hand on his shoulder smote
'Play up! play up! and play the game! '

The sand of the desert is sodden red,—
Red with the wreck of a square that broke; —
The Gatling's jammed and the Colonel dead,
And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.
The river of death has brimmed his banks,
And England's far, and Honour a name,
But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks:
'Play up! play up! and play the game! '

This is the word that year by year,
While in her place the school is set,
Every one of her sons must hear,
And none that hears it dare forget.
This they all with a joyful mind
Bear through life like a torch in flame,
And falling fling to the host behind—
'Play up! play up! and play the game!

by Sir Henry Newbolt

Other poems of NEWBOLT (80)

Comments (12)

Sorry the female robot voice has no feeling and lacks the gravitas needed It is a man's poem about men with their back against the wall holding the line, waiting for death they know will come for them A poem honours them and as such should to be read to covey the emotion and meaning of what the poem
For a modern day example refer to the last 50 over of England against Australia and Jos Butter's innings to enable England to win. This brought back memories of having learned it at a young age of under 12
As a12 year old secondary school student in the U.K some ‘70 years ago This was a poem we had to memorize, ! This should be required today & perhaps we would not have such big egos in much of our sports so called celebrities & entertainment industry
This is some serious nostalgia.
You need to get a better voice to read this poem...someone with a bit of empathy in their voice
See More