I could no more define poetry than a terrier can define a rat.
A. E. HOUSMANClay lies still, but blood’s a rover; Breath’s aware that will not keep. Up, lad: when the journey’s over then there’ll be time enough to sleep.
More A. E. Housman Quotes
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June suns, you cannot store them To warm the winter’s cold, The lad that hopes for heaven Shall fill his mouth with mould.
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Here dead lie we because we did not choose to live and shame the land from which we sprung. Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose; but young men think it is, and we were young.
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But if you ever come to a road where danger; Or guilt or anguish or shame’s to share. Be good to the lad who loves you true, And the soul that was born to die for you; And whistle and I’ll be there.
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When the journey’s over, There’ll be time enough to sleep.
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Give crowns and pounds and guineas But not your heart away; Give pearls away and rubies, But keep your fancy free.
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In every American there is an air of incorrigible innocence, which seems to conceal a diabolical cunning.
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The average man, if he meddles with criticism at all, is a conservative critic.
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The laws of God, the laws of man, He may keep that will and can; Not I: let God and man decree Laws for themselves and not for me.
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Luck’s a chance, but trouble’s sure.
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I do not choose the right word, I get rid of the wrong one.
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Earth and high heaven are fixed of old and founded strong.
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Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough.
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The fairies break their dances And leave the printed lawn.
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They say my verse is sad: no wonder; Its narrow measure spans Tears of eternity, and sorrow, Not mine. but man’s.
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Tomorrow, more’s the pity, Away we both must hie, To air the ditty and to earth I.
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He 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.
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You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover’s say, And happy is the lover. ‘Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever.
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We now to peace and darkness And earth and thee restore Thy creature that thou madest And wilt cast forth no more.
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When the journey’s over/There’ll be time enough to sleep.
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And silence sounds no worse than cheers After earth has stopped the ears.
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And malt does more than Milton can to justify God’s ways to man.
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With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipped maiden And many a lightfoot lad.
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I do not choose the right word, I get rid of the wrong one.
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To justify God’s ways to man.
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Oh I have been to Ludlow fair, and left my necktie God knows where. And carried half way home, or near, pints and quarts of Ludlow beer.
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Oh, ’tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around.
A. E. HOUSMAN