But if you ever come to a road where danger; Or guilt or anguish or shame's to share. Be good to the lad who loves you true, And the soul that was born to die for you; And whistle and I'll be there.
A.E. Housman (1859 - 1936)
Contributed by: Zaady
They say my verse is sad: no wonder; Its narrow measure spans Tears of eternity, and sorrow, Not mine. but man's.
Source: More Poems, 1936, foreword
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough, And stands about the woodland ride Wearing white for Eastertide.
Source: A Shropshire Lad, 1896, no. 2, st. I
The troubles of our proud and angry dust Are from eternity, and shall not fail. Bear them we can, and if we can we must. Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.
Source: Last Poems, 1922, 9, st. 7
And silence sounds no worse than cheers After earth has stopped the ears.
Source: A Shropshire Lad, 1896, no.19, (To an Athlete Dying Young) st. 4
He stood, and heard the steeple Sprinkle the quarters on the morning town.
Source: Last Poems, 1922, I5 (Eight O'Clock), st. 1
And how am I to face the odds Of man's bedevilment and God's? I, a stranger and afraid In a world I never made.
Source: Last Poems, 1922, 12
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.
Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack And leave your friends and go.
Source: A Shropshire Lad, 1896, no. 60
Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose, But young men think it is, and we were young.
Source: More Poems, 1936.
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