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A. E. Housman: Bring, in this timeless grave to throw,
Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling…A. E. Housman: Far in a western brookland
Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know.There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge…A. E. Housman: "Farewell to barn and stack and tree,
"Farewell to barn and stack and tree, Farewell to Severn shore. Terence, look your last at me, For I come home no more."The sun burns on the half-mown hill, By now the blood is dried; And…A. E. Housman: From far, from eve and morning
From far, from eve and morning And yon twelve-winded sky, The stuff of life to knit me Blew hither: here am I.Now— for a breath I tarry Nor yet disperse apart— Take my hand quick and tell…A. E. Housman: I Hoed and trenched and weeded,
I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear.So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie…A. E. Housman: If it chance your eye offend you,
If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground.And if your hand or foot offend you,…A. E. Housman: If truth in hearts that perish
If truth in hearts that perish Could move the powers on high, I think the love I bear you Should make you not to die.Sure, sure, if stedfast meaning, If single thought could save, The…A. E. Housman: In my own shire, if I was sad
In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived…A Shropshire Lad
A. E. Housman1919ContentsIntroduction1887Loveliest of trees, the cherry nowThe RecruitReveilleOh see how thick the goldcup flowersWhen the lad for longing sighs,When smoke stood up from…A. E. Housman: Into my heart an air that kills
Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those?That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain…Trending
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