Housman is one of my heroes and always has been. He was a detestable and miserable man. Arrogant, unspeakably lonely, cruel, and so on, but and absolutely marvellous minor poet, I think, and a great scholar.
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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Hope lies to mortals And most believe her, But man’s deceiver Was never mine.
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And silence sounds no worse than cheers After earth has stopped the ears.
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When the journey’s over, There’ll be time enough to sleep.
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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.
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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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Strapped, noosed, nighing his hour, He stood and counted them and cursed his luck; And then the clock collected in the tower Its strength, and struck.
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Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.
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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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That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, the happy highways where I went and cannot come again.
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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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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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All knots that lovers tie Are tied to sever. Here shall your sweetheart lie, Untrue for ever.
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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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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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There, by the starlit fences The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs.
A. E. HOUSMAN