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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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.
A. E. HOUSMANI do not choose the right word, I get rid of the wrong one.
A. E. HOUSMANJune suns, you cannot store them To warm the winter’s cold, The lad that hopes for heaven Shall fill his mouth with mould.
A. E. HOUSMANThat is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, the happy highways where I went and cannot come again.
A. E. HOUSMANAnd malt does more than Milton can to justify God’s ways to man.
A. E. HOUSMANThe house of delusions is cheap to build but drafty to live in.
A. E. HOUSMANLuck’s a chance, but trouble’s sure.
A. E. HOUSMANBut men at whiles are sober And think by fits and starts. And if they think, they fasten Their hands upon their hearts.
A. E. HOUSMANThe troubles of our proud and angry dust are from eternity, and shall not fail. Bear them we can, and if we can we must. Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.
A. E. HOUSMANBut 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.
A. E. HOUSMANThere, by the starlit fences The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs.
A. E. HOUSMANThe 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.
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.
A. E. HOUSMANLife, to be sure, is nothing much to lose, But young men think it is, and we were young.
A. E. HOUSMANTomorrow, more’s the pity, Away we both must hie, To air the ditty and to earth I.
A. E. HOUSMANShoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.
A. E. HOUSMAN