Alfred Edward Housman

As I gird on for fighting My sword upon my thigh, I think on old ill fortunes

The Wain upon the northern steep Descends and lifts away. Oh I will sit me down and weep

Could man be drunk for ever With liquor, love, or fights, Lief should I rouse at morning

He stood, and heard the steeple Sprinkle the quarters on the morning town. One, two, three, four, to market-place and people

These, in the day when heaven was falling, The hour when earth's foundations fled, Followed their mercenary calling

He is here, Urania's son, Hymen come from Helicon; God that glads the lover's heart,

When lads were home from labour At Abdon under Clee, A man would call his neighbor

The Queen she sent to look for me, The sergeant he did say, 'Young man, a soldier will you be

Onward led the road again Through the sad uncoloured plain Under twilight brooding dim,

Her strong enchantments failing, Her towers of fear in wreck, Her limbecks dried of poisons

Oh hard is the bed they have made him, And common the blanket and cheap; But there he will lie as they laid him:

In midnights of November, When Dead Man's Fair is nigh, And danger in the valley,

In the morning, in the morning, In the happy field of hay, Oh they looked at one another

In valleys green and still Where lovers wander maying They hear from over hill

I 'listed at home for a lancer, Oh who would not sleep with the brave? I 'listed at home for a lancer

Now dreary dawns the eastern light, And fall of eve is drear, And cold the poor man lies at night,

Oh stay at home, my lad, and plough The land and not the sea, And leave the soldiers at their drill,

From Clee to heaven the beacon burns, The shires have seen it plain, From north and south the sign returns

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough, And stands about the woodland ride

Leave your home behind, lad, And reach your friends your hand, And go, and luck go with you

Wake: the silver dusk returning Up the beach of darkness brims, And the ship of sunrise burning

On moonlit heath and lonesome bank The sheep beside me graze; And yon the gallows used to clank

Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places

Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill,

Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble

The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight

With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden

The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light

Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins

"Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song,

You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say,

When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me,

Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack,

The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people,

"Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear,

I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded;

Oh see how thick the goldcup flowers Are lying in field and lane, With dandelions to tell the hours

When the lad for longing sighs, Mute and dull of cheer and pale, If at death's own door he lies,

When smoke stood up from Ludlow, And mist blew off from Teme, And blithe afield to ploughing

"Farewell to barn and stack and tree, Farewell to Severn shore. Terence, look your last at me,

The sun at noon to higher air, Unharnessing the silver Pair That late before his chariot swam,

On your midnight pallet lying Listen, and undo the door: Lads that waste the light in sighing

When I watch the living meet, And the moving pageant file Warm and breathing through the street

When I was one-and-twenty I heard a wise man say, "Give crowns and pounds and guineas

There pass the careless people That call their souls their own: Here by the road I loiter,

The time you won your town the race We chaired you through the market-place; Man and boy stood cheering by,

Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills,

In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore,

Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure

When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say,

Shot? so quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave: Yours was not an ill for mending,

Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking

If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you,

Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew

"Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I:

Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little,

Look not in my eyes, for fear They mirror true the sight I see, And there you find your face too clear

It nods and curtseys and recovers When the wind blows above, The nettle on the graves of lovers

Twice a week the winter thorough Here stood I to keep the goal: Football then was fighting sorrow

Oh, when I was in love with you, Then I was clean and brave, And miles around the wonder grew

Oh fair enough are sky and plain, But I know fairer far: Those are as beautiful again

In summertime on Bredon The bells they sound so clear; Round both the shires they ring them

The street sounds to the soldiers' tread, And out we troop to see: A single redcoat turns his head,

The lads in their hundreds to Ludlow come in for the fair, There's men from the barn and the forge and the mill and the fold, The lads for the girls and the lads for the liquor are there,

Say, lad, have you things to do? Quick then, while your day's at prime. Quick, and if 'tis work for two,

'Tis spring; come out to ramble The hilly brakes around, For under thorn and bramble

This time of year a twelvemonth past, When Fred and I would meet, We needs must jangle, till at last

Along the fields as we came by A year ago, my love and I, The aspen over stile and stone

"Is my team ploughing, That I was used to drive And hear the harness jingle

High the vanes of Shrewsbury gleam Islanded in Severn stream; The bridges from the steepled crest

Others, I am not the first, Have willed more mischief than they durst: If in the breathless night I too

On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble; His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves; The gale, it plies the saplings double,

From far, from eve and morning And yon twelve-winded sky, The stuff of life to knit me

If truth in hearts that perish Could move the powers on high, I think the love I bear you

"Oh, sick I am to see you, will you never let me be? You may be good for something, but you are not good for me. Oh, go where you are wanted, for you are not wanted here."

'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down

On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer

White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies

As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest,

The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know

West and away the wheels of darkness roll, Day's beamy banner up the east is borne, Spectres and fears, the nightmare and her foal,

We'll to the weeds no more, The laurels are all cut, The bowers are bare of bay

I walked alone and thinking, And faint the nightwind blew And stirred on mounds at crossways

Soldier from the wars returning, Spoiler of the taken town, Here is ease that asks not earning;

Star and coronal and bell April underfoot renews, And the hope of man as well

Tell me not here, it needs not saying, What tune the enchantress plays In aftermaths of soft September

The night my father got me His mind was not on me; He did not plague his fancy

"What sound awakened me, I wonder, For now 'tis dumb." "Wheels on the road most like, or thunder:

The orchards half the way From home to Ludlow fair Flowered on the first of May

'Tis mute, the word they went to hear on high Dodona mountain When winds were in the oakenshaws and all the cauldrons tolled, And mute's the midland navel-stone beside the singing fountain,

Beyond the moor and the mountain crest - Comrade, look not on the west - The sun is down and drinks away

The chestnut casts his flambeaux, and the flowers Stream from the hawthorn on the wind away, The doors clap to, the pane is blind with showers.

The fairies break their dances And leave the printed lawn, And up from India glances

The half-moon westers low, my love, And the wind brings up the rain; And wide apart lie we, my love,

The laws of God, the laws of man, He may keep that will and can; Now I:    let God and man decree

The night is freezing fast, To-morrow comes December; And winterfalls of old

The rain, it streams on stone and hillock, The boot clings to the clay. Since all is done that's due and right

The sigh that heaves the grasses Whence thou wilt never rise Is of the air that passes

The sloe was lost in flower, The April elm was dim; That was the lover's hour,

When I would muse in boyhood The wild green woods among, And nurse resolves and fancies

When first my way to fair I took Few pence in purse had I, And long I used to stand and look

When summer's end is nighing And skies at evening cloud, I muse on change and fortune

When the eye of day is shut, And the stars deny their beams, And about the forest hut

Yonder see the morning blink: The sun is up, and up must I, To wash and dress and eat and drink