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A. E. Housman: Say, lad, have you things to do?
Say, lad, have you things to do? Quick then, while your day's at prime. Quick, and if 'tis work for two, Here am I, man: now's your time.Send me now, and I shall go; Call me, I shall hear…A. E. Housman: Shot? so quick, so clean an ending?
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.Oh you had forethought, you could reason,…A. E. Housman: "Terence, this is stupid stuff:
"Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives…A. E. Housman: The lads in their hundreds to Ludlow come in for the fair,
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,…A. E. Housman: The street sounds to the soldiers' tread,
The street sounds to the soldiers' tread, And out we troop to see: A single redcoat turns his head, He turns and looks at me.My man, from sky to sky's so far, We never crossed before; Such…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…Trending
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