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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

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.
A. E. HOUSMAN
The mortal sickness of a mind too unhappy to be kind.
A. E. HOUSMAN

Happiness Happy Joy Mind Satisfy Soul
I could no more define poetry than a terrier can define a rat.
A. E. HOUSMAN

Animal Definition Myself Poetry
Ale, man, ale’s the stuff to drink for fellows whom it hurts to think.
A. E. HOUSMAN

Drink Fellow Hurt
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough.
A. E. HOUSMAN

Bloom Flower Nature Tree
I, a stranger and afraid, in a world I never made.
A. E. HOUSMAN

Afraid Myself Stranger World
Luck’s a chance, but trouble’s sure.
A. E. HOUSMAN
I find Cambridge an asylum, in every sense of the word.
A. E. HOUSMAN
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.
A. E. HOUSMAN

Collection Count Curse Himself Strength
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.
A. E. HOUSMAN

Eyes Face Fear Lost Love Myself Sight
When the journey’s over, There’ll be time enough to sleep.
A. E. HOUSMAN

Enough Journey Sleep Time
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.
A. E. HOUSMAN

Knowledge Literature Low Mad Opinion Perception Personal Stupid Thinking
The average man, if he meddles with criticism at all, is a conservative critic.
A. E. HOUSMAN

Average Conservatism Criticism Man
Give me a land of boughs in leaf A land of trees that stand; Where trees are fallen there is grief; I love no leafless land.
A. E. HOUSMAN

Grief Land Love Myself Stand Tree
The fairies break their dances And leave the printed lawn.
A. E. HOUSMAN

Break Dance Leaving Print
They carry back bright to the coiner the mintage of man,The lads that will die in their glory and never be old.
A. E. HOUSMAN

Concur Glory Knowledge Literature Man Masterwork Men P Writing

With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipped maiden And many a lightfoot lad.

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With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipped maiden And many a lightfoot lad.

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