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A. E. Housman: The True Lover
The True LoverThe lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs."I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my…A. E. Housman: The Welsh Marches
The Welsh MarchesHigh the vanes of Shrewsbury gleam Islanded in Severn stream; The bridges from the steepled crest Cross the water east and west.The flag of morn in conqueror's state Enters…A. E. Housman: The winds out of the west land blow,
The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air.It fanned their temples, filled their lungs,…A. E. Housman: There pass the careless people
There pass the careless people That call their souls their own: Here by the road I loiter, How idle and alone.Ah, past the plunge of plummet, In seas I cannot sound, My heart and soul and…A. E. Housman: Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly:
Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling…A. E. Housman: This time of year a twelvemonth past,
This time of year a twelvemonth past, When Fred and I would meet, We needs must jangle, till at last We fought and I was beat.So then the summer fields about, Till rainy days began, Rose…A. E. Housman: 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town
'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow.Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so…A. E. Housman: To an Athlete Dying Young
To an Athlete Dying YoungThe time you won your town the race We chaired you through the market-place; Man and boy stood cheering by, And home we brought you shoulder-high.To-day, the road all…A. E. Housman: Twice a week the winter thorough
Twice a week the winter thorough Here stood I to keep the goal: Football then was fighting sorrow For the young man's soul.Now in May time to the wicket Out I march with bat and pad: See…A. E. Housman: Westward on the high-hilled plains
Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man.Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore…Trending
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