Poems by Alfred Edward Housman
In My Own Shire, If I Was Sad
... And till they drop they needs must still ...
Westward on the High-Hilled Plains
... There, on thoughts that once were mine, ...
On Your Midnight Pallet Lying
... Pity me before. In the land to which I travel, ...
Tis Time, I Think, By Wenlock Town
... Spring will not wait the loiterer's time ...
It Nods and Curtseys and Recovers
... The nettle nods, the wind blows over, ...
To my Comrade, Moses J. Jackson, Scoffer at this Scholarship
... Brief friend, your name should last the ages ...
A Shropshire Lad XXXI: On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble
... The thoughts that hurt him, they were there ...
A Shropshire Lad I: From Clee to heaven the beacon burns
... To skies that knit their heartstrings right, ...
A Shropshire Lad XXXV: On the idle hill of summer
... Bleach the bones of comrades slain, ...
A Shropshire Lad XII: When I watch the living meet
... In the house of flesh are strong, ...
A Shropshire Lad II: Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
... And take from seventy springs a score, ...
A Shropshire Lad XXX: Others, I am not the first
... Have willed more mischief than they durst: ...
A Shropshire Lad XXVI: Along the field as we came by
... And time shall put them both to bed, ...
A Shropshire Lad LIII: The lad came to the door at night
... ‘Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast ...
Here Dead Lie We because We did not Choose (XXXVI)
... Here dead lie we because we did not choose To live and shame the land from which we sprung ...
