All Poems

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Reveille

© Alfred Edward Housman

Wake: the silver dusk returning
Up the beach of darkness brims,
And the ship of sunrise burning
Strands upon the eastern rims.

Now Hollow Fires Burn Out to Black

© Alfred Edward Housman

Now hollow fires burn out to black,
And lights are guttering low:
Square your shoulders, lift your pack,
And leave your friends and go.

In Valleys of Springs and Rivers

© Alfred Edward Housman

"Clunton and Clunbury,
Clungunford and Clun,
Are the quietest places
Under the sun."

From Far, From Eve and Morning

© Alfred Edward Housman

From far, from eve and morning
And yon twelve-winded sky,
The stuff of life to knit me
Blew hither: here am I.

If By Chance Your Eye Offend You

© Alfred Edward Housman

If by 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.

Bring, In This Timeless Grave To Throw

© Alfred Edward Housman

XLVIBring, in this timeless grave to throw
No cypress, sombre on the snow;
Snap not from the bitter yew
His leaves that live December through;

When I Watch the Living Meet

© Alfred Edward Housman

When I watch the living meet
And the moving pageant file
Warm and breathing through the street
Where I lodge a little while,

Hughley Steeple

© Alfred Edward Housman

LXIThe vane on Hughley steeple
Veers bright, a far-known sign,
And there lie Hughley people,
And there lie friends of mine.

Tell me not here, it needs not saying

© Alfred Edward Housman

Tell me not here, it needs not saying,
What tune the enchantress plays
In aftermaths of soft September
Or under blanching mays,
For she and I were long acquainted
And I knew all her ways.

Oh Stay At Home, My Lad

© Alfred Edward Housman

Oh stay at home, my lad, and plough
The land and not the sea,
And leave the soldiers at their drill,
And all about the idle hill
Shepherd your sheep with me.

Shot? So Quick, So Clean an Ending?

© Alfred Edward Housman

Shot? so quick, so clean an ending?
Oh that was right, lad, that was brave:
Yours was not an ill for mending,
'Twas best to take it to the grave.

1887

© Alfred Edward Housman

From Clee to heaven the beacon burns,
The shires have seen it plain,
From north and south the sign returns
And beacons burn again.

Along the field as we came by

© Alfred Edward Housman

ALONG the field as we came by
A year ago, my love and I,
The aspen over stile and stone
Was talking to itself alone.

Others, I Am Not the First

Others, I am not the first,
Have willed more mischief than they durst:
If in the breathless night I too
Shiver now, 'tis nothing new.

The Immortal Part

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

"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.
And that was all the farewell when I parted from my dear.

On Wenlock Edge The Wood's In Trouble

On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble;
His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves;
The gale, it plies the saplings double,
And thick on Severn snow the leaves.

Loitering with a Vacant Eye

Loitering with a vacant eye
Along the Grecian gallery,
And brooding on my heavy ill,
I met a statue standing still.

White in the Moon the Long Road Lies

White in the moon the long road lies,
The moon stands blank above;
White in the moon the long road lies
That leads me from my love.

Think No More, Lad

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 sky.