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A. E. Houseman (1859-1936) |
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Selections from A Shropshire Lad, pub. 1896:
When I watch the living meet [Select]
When I was one-and-twenty [Select]
Is my team ploughing [Select]
With rue my heart is laden [Select]
I hoed and trenched and weeded [Select]
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XII
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| When I watch the living meet, | |
| And the moving pageant file | |
| Warm and breathing through the street | |
| Where I lodge a little while, | |
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| If the heats of hate and lust | |
| In the house of flesh are strong, | |
| Let me mind the house of dust | |
| Where my sojourn shall be long. | |
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| In the nation that is not | |
| Nothing stands that stood before; | |
| There revenges are forgot, | |
| And the hater hates no more; | |
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| Lovers lying two and two | |
| Ask not whom they sleep beside, | |
| And the bridegroom all night through | |
| Never turns him to the bride. | |
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XIII
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When I was one-and-twenty | |
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I heard a wise man say, | |
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‘Give crowns and pounds and guineas | |
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But not your heart away; | |
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Give pearls away and rubies | |
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But keep your fancy free.’ | |
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But I was one-and-twenty, | |
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No use to talk to me. | |
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When I was one-and-twenty | |
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I heard him say again, | |
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‘The heart out of the bosom | |
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Was never given in vain; | |
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’Tis paid with sighs a plenty | |
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And sold for endless rue.’ | |
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And I am two-and-twenty, | |
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And oh, ’tis true, ’tis true. | |
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XXVII
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‘Is my team ploughing, | |
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That I was used to drive | |
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And hear the harness jingle | |
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When I was man alive?’ | |
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Ay, the horses trample, | |
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The harness jingles now; | |
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No change though you lie under | |
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The land you used to plough. | |
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‘Is football playing | |
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Along the river shore, | |
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With lads to chase the leather, | |
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Now I stand up no more?’ | |
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Ay, the ball is flying, | |
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The lads play heart and soul; | |
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The goal stands up, the keeper | |
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Stands up to keep the goal. | |
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‘Is my girl happy, | |
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That I thought hard to leave, | |
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And has she tired of weeping | |
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As she lies down at eve?’ | |
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Ay, she lies down lightly, | |
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She lies not down to weep: | |
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Your girl is well contented. | |
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Be still, my lad, and sleep. | |
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Is my friend hearty, | |
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Now I am thin and pine, | |
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And has he found to sleep in | |
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A better bed than mine?’ | |
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Yes, lad, I lie easy, | |
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I lie as lads would choose; | |
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I cheer a dead man’s sweetheart, | |
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Never ask me whose. | |
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LIV
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With rue my heart is laden | |
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For golden friends I had, | |
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For many a rose-lipt maiden | |
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And many a lightfoot lad. | |
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By brooks too broad for leaping | |
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The lightfoot boys are laid; | |
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The rose-lipt girls are sleeping | |
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In fields where roses fade. | |
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LXIII
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I hoed and trenched and weeded, | |
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And took the flowers to fair: | |
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I brought them home unheeded; | |
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The hue was not the wear. | |
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So up and down I sow them | |
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For lads like me to find, | |
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When I shall lie below them, | |
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A dead man out of mind. | |
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Some seed the birds devour, | |
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And some the season mars, | |
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But here and there will flower | |
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The solitary stars, | |
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And fields will yearly bear them | |
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As light-leaved spring comes on, | |
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And luckless lads will wear them | |
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When I am dead and gone.
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Loveliest of Trees
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Credits:
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