When I was one-and-twenty I heard him say again, "The heart out of the bosom Was never given in vain; 'Tis Paid with sighs aplenty And sold for endless rue. And I am two-and-twenty, And Oh, 'tis true, 'tis true."
A.E. Housman (1859 - 1936)
Source: A Shropshire Lad, 1896, no. 13, st. 2
Contributed by: Zaady
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
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
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.
Here dead lie we because we did not choose To live and shame the land from which we sprung Life to be sure, is nothing much to lose; But young men think it is, and we were young.
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