Poems by Alfred Edward Housman
The Isle Of Portland
... not to rise, Never to stir forth free, ...
As Through the Wild Green Hills of Wyre
... For strangers' faces, strangers' lands,-- ...
If Truth in Hearts That Perish
... Sure, sure, if stedfast meaning, ...
The Street Sounds to the Soldiers' Tread
... Such leagues apart the world's ends are, ...
Farewell to Barn and Stack and Tree
... "I wish you strength to bring you pride, ...
The Chestnut Casts His Flambeaux
... There's one spoilt spring to scant our mortal lot, ...
The Fairies Break Their Dances
... The candles burn their sockets, ...
The Recruit
... To farm and lane and mill, Or come you home of Monday ...
On Moonlit Heath and Lonesome Bank
... There sleeps in Shrewsbury jail to-night, ...
Think No More, Lad
... If young hearts were not so clever, ...
White in the Moon the Long Road Lies
... Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, ...
Loitering with a Vacant Eye
... "Well met," I thought the look would say, ...
On Wenlock Edge The Wood's In Trouble
... 'Twould blow like this through holt and hanger ...
The New Mistress
... Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick ...
The Immortal Part
... Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, ...
