June suns, you cannot store them To warm the winter’s cold, The lad that hopes for heaven Shall fill his mouth with mould.
A. E. HOUSMANRelated Topics

June suns, you cannot store them To warm the winter’s cold, The lad that hopes for heaven Shall fill his mouth with mould.
A. E. HOUSMANHe would not stay for me, and who can wonder? He would not stay for me to stand and gaze. I shook his hand, and tore my heart in sunder, And went with half my life about my ways.
A. E. HOUSMANThree minutes thought would suffice to find this out; but thought is irksome and three minutes is a long time.
A. E. HOUSMANTomorrow, more’s the pity, Away we both must hie, To air the ditty and to earth I.
A. E. HOUSMANI do not choose the right word, I get rid of the wrong one.
A. E. HOUSMANThey carry back bright to the coiner the mintage of man,The lads that will die in their glory and never be old.
A. E. HOUSMANI find Cambridge an asylum, in every sense of the word.
A. E. HOUSMANNature, not content with denying him the ability to think, has endowed him with the ability to write.
A. E. HOUSMANThe fairies break their dances And leave the printed lawn.
A. E. HOUSMANThey say my verse is sad: no wonder; Its narrow measure spans Tears of eternity, and sorrow, Not mine. but man’s.
A. E. HOUSMANThe troubles of our proud and angry dust are from eternity, and shall not fail. Bear them we can, and if we can we must. Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.
A. E. HOUSMANThe mortal sickness of a mind too unhappy to be kind.
A. E. HOUSMANTen thousand times I’ve done my best and all’s to do again.
A. E. HOUSMANLife, to be sure, is nothing much to lose, But young men think it is, and we were young.
A. E. HOUSMANThe rainy Pleiads wester Orion plunges prone, And midnight strikes and hastens, And I lie down alone.
A. E. HOUSMANWith rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipped maiden And many a lightfoot lad.
A. E. HOUSMAN