A. E. Housman (1859–1936). A Shropshire Lad. 1896.
Contents
- From Clee to heaven the beacon burns
- Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
- Leave your home behind, lad
- Wake: the silver dusk returning
- Oh see how thick the goldcup flowers
- When the lad for longing sighs
- When smoke stood up from Ludlow
- Farewell to barn and stack and tree
- On moonlit heath and lonesome bank
- The Sun at noon to higher air
- On your midnight pallet lying
- When I watch the living meet
- When I was one-and-twenty
- There pass the careless people
- Look not in my eyes, for fear
- It nods and curtseys and recovers
- Twice a week the winter thorough
- Oh, when I was in love with you
- The time you won your town the race
- Oh fair enough are sky and plain
- In summertime on Bredon
- The street sounds to the soldiers’ tread
- The lads in their hundreds
- Say, lad, have you things to do
- This time of year a twelvemonth past
- Along the field as we came by
- Is my team ploughing
- High the vanes of Shrewsbury gleam
- ’Tis spring; come out to ramble
- Others, I am not the first
- On Wenlock Edge the wood’s in trouble
- From far, from eve and morning
- If truth in hearts that perish
- Oh, sick I am to see you
- On the idle hill of summer
- White in the moon the long road lies
- As through the wild green hills of Wyre
- The winds out of the west land blow
- ’Tis time, I think, by Wenlock town
- Into my heart on air that kills
- In my own shire, if I was sad
- Once in the wind of morning
- When I meet the morning beam
- Shot? so quick, so clean an ending
- If it chance your eye offend you
- Bring, in this timeless grave to throw
- Here the hangman stops his cart
- Be still, my soul, be still
- Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly
- In valleys of springs of rivers
- Loitering with a vacant eye
- Far in a western brookland
- The lad came to the door at night
- With rue my heart is laden
- Westward on the high-hilled plains
- Far I hear the bugle blow
- You smile upon your friend to-day
- When I came last to Ludlow
- The star-filled seas are smooth to-night
- Now hollow fires burn out to black
- The vane on Hughley steeple
- Terence, this is stupid stuff
- I hoed and trenched and weeded