With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipped maiden And many a lightfoot lad.
A. E. HOUSMANI do not choose the right word, I get rid of the wrong one.
More A. E. Housman Quotes
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The thoughts of others Were light and fleeting, Of lovers’ meeting Or luck or fame. Mine were of trouble, And mine were steady; So I was ready When trouble came.
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Some men are more interesting than their books but my book is more interesting than its man.
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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.
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Earth and high heaven are fixed of old and founded strong.
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A moment’s thought would have shown him. But a moment is a long time, and thought is a painful process.
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Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.
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Who made the world I cannot tell; ‘Tis made, and here am I in hell. My hand, though now my knuckles bleed, I never soiled with such a deed.
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This is for all ill-treated fellows Unborn and unbegot, For them to read when they’re in trouble And I am not.
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Great literature should do some good to the reader: must quicken his perception though dull, and sharpen his discrimination though blunt, and mellow the rawness of his personal opinions.
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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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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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Even when poetry has a meaning, as it usually has, it may be inadvisable to draw it out. Perfect understanding will sometimes almost extinguish pleasure.
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Good religious poetry… is likely to be most justly appreciated and most discriminately relished by the undevout.
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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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His folly has not fellow Beneath the blue of day That gives to man or woman His heart and soul away.
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But men at whiles are sober And think by fits and starts. And if they think, they fasten Their hands upon their hearts.
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Look not in my eyes, for fear They mirror true the sight I see, And there you find your face too clear And love it and be lost like me.
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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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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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I find Cambridge an asylum, in every sense of the word.
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And malt does more than Milton can to justify God’s ways to man.
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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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Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose, But young men think it is, and we were young.
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Luck’s a chance, but trouble’s sure.
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Ten thousand times I’ve done my best and all’s to do again.
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On Wenlock Edge the wood’s in trouble;His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves;The wind it plies the saplings double, And thick on Severn snow the leaves.
A. E. HOUSMAN