- Poetry
A Shropshire Lad – XXXIX by A. E. Housman
‘Tis time, I think by Wenlock townThe golden broom should blow;The hawthorn sprinkled up and downShould charge the land with…
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A Shropshire Lad – XXXV by A. E. Housman
On the idle hill of summer,Sleepy with the flow of streams,Far I hear the steady drummerDrumming like a noise in…
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A Shropshire Lad – XXXVI by A. E. Housman
White in the moon the long road lies,The moon stands blank above;White in the moon the long road liesThat leads…
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A Shropshire Lad – XXXVII by A. E. Housman
As through the wild green hills of WyreThe train ran, changing sky and shire,And far behind, a fading crest,Low in…
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A Shropshire Lad – XXXVIII by A. E. Housman
The winds out of the west land blow,My friends have breathed them there;Warm with the blood of lads I knowComes…
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As I gird on for fighting by A. E. Housman
As I gird on for fightingMy sword upon my thigh,I think on old ill fortunesOf better men than I. Think…
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Astronomy by A. E. Housman
The Wain upon the northern steepDescends and lifts away.Oh I will sit me down and weepFor bones in Africa. For…
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Could man be drunk for ever by A. E. Housman
Could man be drunk for everWith liquor, love, or fights,Lief should I rouse at morningAnd lief lie down of nights.…
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Eight Oclock by A. E. Housman
He stood, and heard the steepleSprinkle the quarters on the morning town.One, two, three, four, to market-place and peopleIt tossed…
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Epitaph On An Army Of Mercenaries by A. E. Housman
Epitaph on an Army of Mercenaries, is perhaps the best known from his second poetry collection, Last Poems (1922). His…
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