Tomorrow, more’s the pity, Away we both must hie, To air the ditty and to earth I.
A. E. HOUSMANLuck’s a chance, but trouble’s sure.
More A. E. Housman Quotes
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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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I, a stranger and afraid, in a world I never made.
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Oh, ’tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around.
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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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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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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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The house of delusions is cheap to build but drafty to live in.
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They carry back bright to the coiner the mintage of man,The lads that will die in their glory and never be old.
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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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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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Clay 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.
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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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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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White in the moon the long road lies.
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Hope lies to mortals And most believe her, But man’s deceiver Was never mine.
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I think that to transfuse emotion – not to transmit thought but to set up in the reader’s sense a vibration corresponding to what was felt by the writer – is the peculiar function of poetry.
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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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Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill.
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And malt does more than Milton can to justify God’s ways to man.
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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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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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Ten thousand times I’ve done my best and all’s to do again.
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Do not ever read books about versification: no poet ever learnt it that way. If you are going to be a poet, it will come to you naturally and you will pick up all you need from reading poetry.
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Luck’s a chance, but trouble’s sure.
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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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