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  1. Hace 4 días · William Ernest Henley (born Aug. 23, 1849, Gloucester, Gloucestershire, Eng.—died July 11, 1903, Woking, near London) was a British poet, critic, and editor who in his journals introduced the early work of many of the great English writers of the 1890s.

    • The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica
  2. Hace 5 días · English-Spanish Translation and Linguistic Adaptation by Traducción y Adaptación Lingüística de Leticia Gamez Troncoso Invictus - Invicto de William Earnest Henley.

    • 4 min
    • 1
    • Leticia Troncoso
  3. Hace 4 días · The poet William Ernest Henley (1849–1903) was the son of a Gloucester bookseller, and the poet and composer Ivor Gurney (1890–1937) the son of a city tailor. A story about another local tailor, John Prichard (d. 1934), apparently inspired the children's book The Tailor of Gloucester by Beatrix Potter.

  4. Hace 2 días · When you think about the world of English language theatre, particularly here in the United States, the 19th century was pretty much a wasteland. In England you have the world of W. S. Gilbert (of Gilbert and Sullivan fame), Edward Stirling (known for his adaptations of Dickens and Sir Walter Scott) and Frank Harvey (nom de plume for John Ainsworth Hilton, writer of drawing room dramas). In ...

  5. Hace 5 días · Answer: William Ernest Henley. William Ernest Henley (1849-1903) was a British poet born in Gloucester, England, who penned the short Victorian poem "Invictus" in 1875. Originally untitled, the poem was published in 1888 in the "Book of Verses", in the section 'Life and Death (Echoes)'.

  6. Hace 4 días · The poem was written by William Ernest Henley, who lived from 1849 to 1903. Henley had a leg amputated in his youth, after suffering from tuberculosis of the bone, and has been named as being the inspiration for the character of Long John Silver in the novel 'Treasure Island'.

  7. Hace 4 días · That was the birth of me: I am the Sword. Bleak and lean, grey and cruel, Short-hilted, long shafted, I froze into steel; And the blood of my elder, His hand on the hafts of me, Sprang like a wave. In the wind, as the sense.

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