The fairies break their dances And leave the printed lawn.
A. E. HOUSMANHere 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.
More A. E. Housman Quotes
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Ten thousand times I’ve done my best and all’s to do again.
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Tomorrow, more’s the pity, Away we both must hie, To air the ditty and to earth I.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
Good religious poetry… is likely to be most justly appreciated and most discriminately relished by the undevout.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose, But young men think it is, and we were young.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipped maiden And many a lightfoot lad.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
There, like the wind through woods in riot, Through him the gale of life blew high; The tree of man was never quiet: Then ’twas the Roman, now ’tis I.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
Ale, man, ale’s the stuff to drink for fellows whom it hurts to think.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
The mortal sickness of a mind too unhappy to be kind.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
Stars, I have seen them fall, But when they drop and die No star is lost at all From all the star-sown sky. The toil of all that be Helps not the primal fault; It rains into the sea And still the sea is salt.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
Nature, not content with denying him the ability to think, has endowed him with the ability to write.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
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.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
The rainy Pleiads wester Orion plunges prone, And midnight strikes and hastens, And I lie down alone.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
We now to peace and darkness And earth and thee restore Thy creature that thou madest And wilt cast forth no more.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough.
A. E. HOUSMAN -
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