Ai Ai 0! Oi 1 j 4! Oi 9i 8[ 1 I 5! PR 4809 H15 S5 1906 r LIBRARY THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SANTA BARBARA PRESENTED BY ANN GUEST k A SHROPSHIRE LAD SHROPSHIRE LAD BY A. E. HOUSMAN JOHN LANE COMPANY THE BODLEY HEAD, NEW YORK MCMVI LIBRARY UMVERSri/ OF C-JJFOaNiA isAlN'i'A BAitB/^iA CONTENTS No, I. From Clee to heaven the beacon burns II. Loveliest of trees, the cherry now III. Leave your home behind, lad . . IV. Wake : the silver dusk returning . V. Oh see how thick the goldcup flowers VI. When the lad for longing sighs . VII. When smoke stood up from Ludlow VIII. Farewell to barn and stack and tree IX. On moonlit heath and lonesome bank X. The Sun at noon to higher air . XI. On your midnight pallet lying . XII. When I watch the living meet . XIII. When I was one-and-twenty . XIV. There pass the careless people . XV. Look not in my eyes, for fear , XVI. It nods and curtseys and recovers XVII. Twice a week the winter thorough XVIII. Oh, when I was in love with you . XIX. The time you won your town the race V Page 1 3 4 6 8 10 11 13 14 n 18 19 20 21 23 24 24 25 26 No. XX. XXI. XXII. XXIII. XXIV. XXV. XXVI. XXVII. XXVIII. XXIX. XXX. XXXI. XXXII. XXXIII. XXXIV. XXXV. XXXVI. XXXVII. XXXVIII. XXXIX. XL. XLI. XLII. XLIII. XLIV. CONTENTS Page Oh fair enoiigli arc sky and plain . 28 In .summcrtiiiK' on Hrcdon .... 29 The street .sounds to the soldiers' tread 32 The lads in their hundreds . . . . :13 Say, lad, have you things to do . .35 This time of year a twelvemonth past 36 Along the field as we came by . . 37 Is my team ploughing 38 High the vanes of Shrewsbury gleam 40 T is spring ; come out to ramble . . 43 Others, I am not the first .... 44 On Wcnlock Edge the wood 's in trouble 45 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 T is time, I think, by Wenlock town Into my heart an 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 vi 47 48 49 51 52 53 55 56 57 58 60 64 67 CONTENTS No. Page XLV. If it chance your eye offend you . . 69 XLVI. Bring, in this timeless grave to throw 69 XLVII. Here the hangman stops his cart . . 71 XLVIII. Be still, ray soul, be still 73 XLIX. Think no more, lad ; laugh, be joUy . 75 L. In valleys of springs of rivers . . . 76 LI. Loitering with a vacant eye .... 78 LII. Far in a western brookland .... 79 LIII. The lad came to the door at night . . 80 LIV. With rue my heart is laden .... 83 LV. Westward on the high-hilled plains 83 LVI. Far I hear the bugle blow 85 LVII. You smile upon your friend to-day . . 86 LVIII. When I came last to Ludlow . . . 87 LIX. The star-filled seas are smooth to-night 87 LX. Now hoUow fires burn out to black 88 LXI. The vane on Hughley steeple . , . 89 LXII. Terence, this is stupid stuff .... 91 LXIII. I hoed and trenched and weeded . . 95 Vll I 1887 From Clee to heaven the beacon burns, The shires have seen it plain^ From north and south the sign returns And beacons burn again. Look left, look rights the hills are bright. The dales are light between. Because 't is fifty years to-night That God has saved the Queen* Now, when the flame they watch not towers About the soil they trod, Lads, we '11 remember friends of ours Who shared the work with God. A STmOPSHITlE T.AD To skies that knit their heartstrings right, To fields that bred them brave, The saviours come not home to-night : Themselves they could not save. It dawns in Asia, tombstones show And Shropshire names are read ; And the Nile spills his overflow Beside the Severn's dead. We pledge in peace by farm and town The Queen they served in war. And fire the beacons up and down The land they perished for. ' God save the Queen ' we living sing. From height to height 't is heard ; And with the rest your voices ring, Lads of the Fifty-third. A SHROPSHIRE LAD Oh, God will save her, fear you not : Be you the men you 've been, Get you the sons your fathers got. And God will save the Queen. II Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough. And stands about the woodland ride Wearing white for Eastertide. Now, of my threescore years and ten. Twenty will not come again, And take from seventy springs a score. It only leaves me fifty more. 3 A SHROPSHIRE LAD And since to look at things in bloom Fifty springs arc little room, About the woodlands I will go To see the cherry hung with snow. Ill THE RECRUIT Leave your home behind, lad. And reach your friends your hand, And go, and luck go with you While Ludlow tower shall stand. Oh, come you home of Sunday When Ludlow streets are still And Ludlow bells are calling To farm and lane and mill, 4 A SHROPSHIRE LAD Or come you home of Monday When Ludlow market hums And Ludlow chimes are playing 'The conquering hero comes/ Come you home a hero. Or come not home at all, The lads you leave will mind you Till Ludlow tower shall fall. And you will list the bugle That blows in lands of morn. And make the foes of England Be sorry you were born. And you till trump of doomsday On lands of morn may lie. And make the hearts of comrades Be heavy where you die. 5 A snuorsHiKi: i.ad Leave your home bt-hiiul you, Your friciuls by Held ••iiul town; Oh, town and fultl will luind you Till Ludlow tower is down. " IV REVEILLE Wake : the silver dusk returning Up the beach of darkness brims. And the ship of sunrise burning Strands upon the eastern rims. Wake : the vaulted shadow shatters. Trampled to the floor it spanned. And the tent of night in tatters Straws the sky-pavilioned land. 6 A SHROPSHIRE LAD Up, lad, up, 't is late for lying : Hear the drums of morning play ; Hark, the empty highways crying ' Who '11 beyond the hills away ? ' Towns and countries woo together. Forelands beacon, belfries call ; Never lad that trod on leather Lived to feast his heart with all. Up, lad : thews that lie and cumber Sunlit pallets never thrive ; Morns abed and daylight slumber Were not meant for man alive. Clay lies still, but blood 's a rover ; Breath 's a ware that will not keep. Up, lad : when the journey 's over There '11 be time enough to sleep. ?• 7 A SllUOl'SlllliE LAD Oil sec liow lliick the goldcup flowers Are lviii^ When I watch the living meet. And the moving pageant file Warm and breathing through the street Where I lodge a little while. If the heats of hate and lust In the house of flesh are strong. Let me mind the house of dust Where my sojourn shall be long. 19 A SIlKOl'SlllllK LAD In the nation that is not Nothing stands that stood hi-fort- ; There reven{i;es are forgot, And the hater hates no more ; Lovers lying two and two Ask not whom they sleep beside, And the bridegroom all night through Never turns him to the bride. XIII When I was one-and-twenty I heard a wise man say, * Give crowns and jwunds and guineas But not your heart away ; 20 A SHROPSHIRE LAD Give pearls away and rubies But keep your fancy free.' But I was one-and-twenty. No use to talk to me. WTien I was one-and-twenty I heard him say again, ' The heart out of the bosom Was never given in vain ; 'T is paid with sighs a plenty And sold for endless rue.' And I am two-and-twenty, And oh, 't is true, 't is true. XIV'- There pass the careless people That call their souls their own Here by the road I loiter. How idle and alone. 21 A SlI KOrSIIIHK LAI) Ah, past the pUiiige of plummet. In seas I eannot sound. My heart and soul and senses, World without end, are drowned. His folly has not fellow Beneath the blue of day That gives to man or woman His heart and soul away. There flowers no balm to sain him From east of earth to west That 's lost for everlasting The heart out of his breast. Here by the labouring highway With empty hands I stroll : Sea-deep, till doomsday morning. Lie lost my heart and soul. 12 A SHROPSHIRE LAD XV Look not in my eyes, for fear They mirror true the sight I see. And there you find your face too clear And love it and be lost like me. One the long nights through must lie Spent in star-defeated sighs. But why should you as well as I Perish ? gaze not in my eyes. A Grecian lad, as I hear tell. One that many loved in vain. Looked into a forest well And never looked away again. There, when the turf in springtime flowers. With downward eye and gazes sad. Stands amid the glancing showers A jonquil, not a Grecian lad. 23 A SllUurSlIlUE LAD XVI It nods and curtseys and recovers When the wind blows above, The nettle on the graves of lovers That hanged themselves for love. The nettle nods, the wind blows over, The man, he does not move, The lover of the grave, the lover That hanged himself for love. XVII ' Twice a week the winter thorough Here stood I to keep the goal : Football then was fighting sorrow For the young man's soul. 24 A SHROPSHIRE LAD Now in Maytime to the wicket Out I march with bat and pad : See the son of grief at cricket Trying to be glad. Try I will ; no harm in trying : Wonder 't is how little mirth Keeps the bones of man from lying On the bed of earth. XVIII Oh, when I was in love with you. Then I was clean and brave, And miles around the wonder grew How well did I behave. 25 A SHROl'SHIUK LAI) Ami MOW tlu' laiu'v passes by, And nothin;^ will remain, And miles around they '11 say that I Am quite myself again. XIX TO AN ATHLETE DYING YOUNG ' The time you won your town the race We chaired you through the market-place ; Man and boy stood cheering by, And home we brought you shoulder-high. To-day, the road all runners come. Shoulder-high we bring you home. And set you at your threshold down. Townsman of a stiller town. 26 A SHROPSHIRE LAD Smart lad, to slip betimes away From fields where glory does not stay. And early though the laurel grows It withers quicker than the rose. Eyes the shady night has shut Cannot see the record cut. And silence sounds no worse than cheers After earth has stopped the ears : Now you will not swell the rout Of lads that wore their honours out. Runners whom renown outran And the name died before the man. So set, before its echoes fade. The fleet foot on the sill of shade. And hold to the low lintel up The still-defended challenge-cup. 27 A siiuorsmin: lad Aiul round that carly-laurcllcd head W'\]] flock to gaze the strengthless dead, Aiul fiiul imwithered on its curls The garland briefer than a girl's. XX ' Oh fair enough are sky and plain, But I know fairer far : Those are as beautiful again That in the water are ; The pools and rivers wash so clean The trees and clouds and air, The like on earth was never seen. And oh that I were there. 28 A SHROPSHIRE LAD These are the thoughts I often think As I stand gazing down In act upon the cressy brink To strip and dive and drown ; But in the golden-sanded brooks And azure meres I spy A silly lad that longs and looks And wishes he were I. XXI BREDON^ HILL In summertime on Bredon The bells they sound so clear ; Round both the shires they ring them In steeples far and near, A happy noise to hear. ^ Pronounced Breedon. 29 A SHUOPSniRE LAD Here of a Sunday morning My love and I would lie, And see the coloured counties. And hear the larks so high About us in the sky. The bells would ring to call her In valleys miles away : ' Come all to church, good people ; Good people, come and pray.' But here my love would stay. And I would turn and answer Among the springing thyme, ' Oh, peal upon our wedding, And we will hear the chime. And come to church in time.* 30 A SHROPSHIRE LAD But when the snows at Christmas On Bredon top were strown. My love rose up so early And stole out unbeknown And went to church alone. They tolled the one bell only, Groom there was none to see, The mourners followed after. And so to church went she. And would not wait for me. The bells they sound on Bredon, And still the steeples hum. ' Come all to church, good people,' Oh, noisy bells, be dumb ; I hear you, I will come. 31 A SllKOrSIIIIlE LAD XXII The street sounds to the soldiers* tread. And out we troop to see : A single redcoat turns his head. He turns and looks at me. My man, from sky to sky 's so far. We never crossed before ; Such leagues apart the world's ends are. We 're like to meet no more ; What thoughts at heart have you and I We cannot stop to tell ; But dead or living, drunk or dry. Soldier, I wish you well. 32 A SHROPSHIRE LAD XXIII . The lads in their hundreds to Ludlow come in for the fair^ There 's men from the barn and the forge and the mill and the fold. The lads for the girls and the lads for the liquor are there. And there with the rest are the lads that will never be old. There 's chaps from the town and the field and the till and the cart. And many to count are the stalwart, and many the brave, And many the handsome of face and the handsome of heart. And few that will carry their looks or their truth to the grave. 3 33 A SHROPSHIRE LAD I wish one could know tlicni, I wish there were tokens to tell The fortunate fellows that now you can never discern ; And then one could talk with them friendly and wish them farewell And watch them depart on the way that they will not return. But now you may stare as you like and there 's nothing to scan ; And brushing your elbow unguessed-at and not to be told They carry back bright to the coiner the mintage of man, The lads that will die in their glory and never be old. 34 A SHROPSHIRE LAD XXIV SaYj lad, have you things to do ? Quick then, while your day 's at prime. Quick, and if 't is work for two. Here am I, man : now 's your time. Send me now, and I shall go ; Call me, I shall hear you call ; Use me ere they lay me low Where a man 's no use at all ; Ere the wholesome flesh decay. And the willing nerve be numb. And the lips lack breath to say, * No, my lad, I cannot come.' 35 A SlIKOrSIIIKE LAD XXV This time of year a twelvemonth past. When Fred and I would meet, We needs must jangle, till at last We fought and I was beat. So then the summer fields about, Till rainy days began, Rose Harland on her Sundays out Walked with the better man. The better man she walks with still. Though now 't is not with Fred : A lad that lives and has his will Is worth a dozen dead. Fred keeps the house all kinds of weather. And clay 's the house he keeps ; When Rose and I walk out together Stock-still lies P'red and sleeps. 36 A SHROPSHIRE LAD XXVI Along the field as we came by A year ago, my love and I, The aspen over stile and stone Was talking to itself alone. * Oh, who are these that kiss and pass ? A country lover and his lass ; Two lovers looking to be wed ; And time shall put them both to bed. But she shall lie with earth above. And he beside another love.' And sure enough beneath the tree There walks another love with me. And overhead the aspen heaves Its rainy-sounding silver leaves ; And I spell nothing in their stir. But now perhaps they speak to her, 37 A SIIUOl'SlllUE LAD Ami plain for Iut to imdersluiul Thry tnlk about a time at hand WIuii I sliall sKcp uitii clover clad, And she beside another hid. XXVII ^ ' Is my team ploughing, That I was used to drive And hear the harness jingle When I was man alive ? ' Ay, the horses trample. The harness jingles now ; No change though you lie under The land you used to plough. 38 A SHROPSHIRE LAD * Is football playing Along the river shore. With lads to chase the leather, Now I stand up no more ? ' Ay, the ball is flying. The lads play heart and soul ; The goal stands up, the keeper^ Stands up to keep the goal. ' Is my girl happy, That I thought hard to leave. And has she tired of weeping As she lies down at eve ? ' Ay, she lies down lightly. She lies not down to weep Your girl is well contented. Be still, my lad, and sleep. 39 A SIIRorSHIRE LAD * Is my friend lie.irty, Now I am tliin and pine, And has hv found to sleep in A better bed than mine ? Yes, lad, I lie easy, I lie as lads would choose ; I cheer a dead man's sweetheart. Never ask me whose. XXVIII THE WELSH MARCHES High the vanes of Shrewsbury gleam Islanded in Severn stream ; The bridges from the steepled crest Cross the water east and west. 40 A SHROPSHIRE LAD The flag of mom in conqueror's state Enters at the Enghsh gate : The vanquished eve, as night prevails. Bleeds upon the road to Wales. Ages since the vanquished bled Round my mother's marriage-bed ; There the ravens feasted far About the open house of war : When Severn down to Buildwas ran Coloured with the death of man. Couched upon her brother's grave The Saxon got me on the slave. The sound of fight is silent long That began the ancient wrong ; Long the voice of tears is still That wept of old the endless ill. 41 A SUHorsilIIlK I, AD In my heart it has not died, The war that sleeps on Severn side ; They cease not fi<;htin^, cast and west, On the marches of my breast. Here the truceless armies yet Trample, rolled in blood and sweat ; They kill and kill and never die ; And I think that each is I. None will part us, none undo The knot that makes one flesh of two. Sick with hatred, sick with pain. Strangling — When shall we be slain ? When shall I be dead and rid Of the wrong my father did ? How long, how long, till spade and hearse Put to sleep my mother's curse ? 42 A SHROPSHIRE LAD XXIX THE LENT LILY 'T IS spring ; come out to ramble The hilly brakes around. For under thorn and bramble About the hollow ground The primroses are found. And there 's the windflower chilly With all the winds at play. And there 's the Lenten lily That has not long to stay And dies on Easter day. And since till girls go maying You find the primrose still. And find the windflower playing With every wind at will, But not the daffodil, 43 A SII KOPSHIUK LAD Bring baskets now, ••uul sally Upon the spring's array. And hear from liill and valley The daffodil away That dies on Easter day. XXX . Others, I am not the first, Have willed more mischief than they durst If in the breathless night I too Shiver now, 't is nothing new. More than I, if truth were told. Have stood and sweated hot and cold. And through their reins in ice and fire Fear contended with desire. 44 A SHROPSHIRE LAD Agued once like me were they, But I like them shall win my way Lastly to the bed of mould Where there 's neither heat nor cold. But from my grave across my brow Plays no wind of healing now, And fire and ice within me fight Beneath the suffocating night. ?• XXXI On Wenlock Edge the wood 's in trouble ; His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves ; The gale, it plies the saplings double, And thick on Severn snow the leaves. 45 A SIIKOI'SII I UK LAD 'T would blow like this Ihrough holt and hanger When Uric'oii [\\v c-itv sloiul : 'T is the old wind in the old anger, But then it threshed another wood. Then, 't was before my time, the Roman At yonder heaving hill would stare : The blood that wanns an English yeoman, The thoughts that hurt him, they were there. There, like the wind through woods in riot. Through him the gale of life blew high ; The tree of man was never quiet : Then 'twas the Roman, now 't is I. The gale, it plies the saplings double. It blows so hard, 't will soon be gone : To-day the Roman and his trouble Are ashes under Uricon. 46 A SHROPSHIRE LAD XXXII From far, from eve and morning And yon twelve-winded sky. The stuff of life to knit me Blew hither : here am I. Now — jbr a breath I tarry Nor yet disperse apart — Take my hand quick and tell me. What have you in your heart. Speak now, and I will answer ; How shall I help you, say ; Ere to the wind's twelve quarters 1 take my endless way. 47 A SHROPSHIRE LAD XXXIII If truth in hearts that perish Could move the powers on high, I think the love 1 bear you Should make you not to die. Sure, sure, if stedfast meaning, If single thought could save, The world mi^ht end to-morrow. You should not see the grave. This long and sure-set liking. This boundless will to please, — Oh, you should live for ever If there were help in these. But now, since all is idle. To this lost heart be kind. Ere to a town you journey Where friends are ill to find. 48 A SHROPSHIRE LAD XXXIV THE NEW MISTRESS ' Off, sick I am to see you, will you never let me he? You may be good for something but you are not good for me. Ok, go where you are wanted, for you are 7iot wanted here. And that was all the farewell when I parted from my dear. ' I will go where I am wanted, to a lady born and bred, Who will dress me free for nothing in a uniform of red ; She will not be sick to see me if I only keep it clean : I will go where I am wanted for a soldier of the Queen. 4 49 A SlIUOl'SIl IHH LAD * I will go where I am wanted, for the sergeant does not mind ; He may be sick to see me but he treats me verj' kind : He gives me beer and breakfast and a ribbon for my cap, And I never knew a sweetheart spend her money on a chap. * I will go where I am wanted, where there 's room for one or two, And the men are none too many for the work there is to do ; Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick ; And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick.* 50 A SHROPSHIRE LAD XXXV * On the idle hill of summer. Sleepy with the flow of streams. Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder On the roads of earth go by. Dear to friends and food for powder, Soldiers marching, all to die. East and west on fields forgotten Bleach the bones of comrades slain, Lovely lads and dead and rotten ; None that go return again. Far the calling bugles hollo. High the screaming fife replies. Gay the files of scarlet follow : Woman bore me, I will rise. 51 A SHHorSIllRE LAD XXXVI '' Wiiitf: in the moon tin- long road lies, The moon sbmds blank above ; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gustj Still, still the shadows stay : My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight though reach the track. Trudge on, trudge on, 't will all be well. The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove : WTiite in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. 52 A SHROPSHIRE LAD XXXVII As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire. And far behind, a fading crest. Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay : That morning half a shire away So many an honest fellow's fist Had wellnigh wrung it from the wrist. Hand, said I, since now we part From fields and men w^e know by heart. For strangers' faces, strangers' lands, — Hand, you have held true fellows' hands. Be clean then ; rot before you do A thing they 'd not believe of you. You and I must keep from shame In London streets the Shropshire name ; 53 A SHUOrSIIIHK LAI) On banks of Thames tlu-y must not say Severn breeds worse men tlian they ; And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home tliey leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold ; The land where I shall mind you not Is the land where all 's forgot. And if my foot returns no more To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore. Luck, ray lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill. By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you '11 keep my head from harm, Still you '11 help me, hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave. 54 A SHROPSHIRE LAD XXXVIII ,' The winds out of the west land blow. My friends have breathed them there ; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs. Scattered their forelocks free ; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying as they fly. Thick on the wind are sown ; The names of men blow soundless by. My fellows' and my own. Oh lads, at home I heard you plain. But here your speech is still. And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. 5S A SHROPSHIRE LAD The wind ;ind I, wc both were there, But neither long abode ; Now through the friendless world we fare And sigh upon the road. XXXIX 'T IS time, I think, by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow ; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away ; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. 56 A SHROPSHIRE LAD Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see ; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows : What are those blue remembered hills. What spires, what farms are those ? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain. The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. 57 A SII UOl'SHIRE LAD XLI - In my own shire, if I was sad, Homely comforters I had : The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore ; And standing liills, long to remain. Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by. Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year : Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down. And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale ; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay. And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood. 58 A SHROPSHIRE LAD Yonder, lightening other loads. The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men ; And these are not in plight to bear. If they would, another's care. They have enough as 't is : I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man ; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. 59 A SHROPSHIRE LAD XLII THE MERRY GUIDE Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold ; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead, And poised a golden rod. With mien to match the morning And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter He looked me in the eyes. 60 A SHROPSHIRE LAD Oh whence, I asked, and whither ? He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned And laughed and led the way. And with kind looks and laughter And nought to say beside We two went on together, I and my happy guide. Across the glittering pastures And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds High in the folded hill. By hanging woods and hamlets That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning And far-discovered town, 6i A SIIROPSIIIUE LAD With gay regards of promise And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken Led on my merry guide. By blowing realms of woodland With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing About the windy weald, By valley-guarded granges And silver waters wide. Content at heart I followed With my delightful guide. And like the cloudy shadows Across the country blown W^e two fare on for ever. But not we two alone. 62 A SHROPSHIRE LAD With the great gale we journey That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms Whose petals throng the wind ; Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn Bereaves in all the world. And midst the fluttering legion Of all that ever died I follow, and before us Goes the delightful guide. With lips that brim with laughter But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers. And serpent-circled wand. 63 A SHROrSHIRE LAD XLiir THE IMMORTAL PART When I meet the morning beam. Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, ' Another night, another day. ' When shall this slough of sense be cast, This dust of thoughts be laid at last, The man of flesh and soul be slain And the man of bone remain ? ' This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout, These thews that hustle us about. This brain that fills the skull with schemes, And its humming hive of dreams, — 64 A SHROPSHIRE LAD These to-day are proud in power And lord it in their little hour : The immortal bones obey control Of dying flesh and dying soul. ' 'T is long till eve and morn are gone Slow the endless night comes on, And late to fulness grows the birth That shall last as long as earth. ' Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest ? 'T is that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton. ' Lie down in the bed of dust ; Bear the fruit that bear you must ; Bring the eternal seed to light, And mom is all the same as night. A s II HO PS n I in: i.ad ' Rest you so from trouble sore, I-\;ir the heat o' the sun no more, Nor the snowinj; winter wild, Now you labour not with child. ' Empty vessel, garment cast. We that wore you long shall last. — Another night, another day.' So my bones within me say. Therefore they shall do my will To-day while I am master still. And flesh and soul, now both are strong, Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, This smoke of thought blow- clean away. And leave with ancient night alone The stedfast and enduring bone. 66 A SHROPSHIRE LAD XLIV -- Shot ? so quick^ so clean an ending ? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave : Yours was not an ill for mending, 'T was best to take it to the grave. Oh you had forethought, you could reason, And saw your road and where it led. And early wise and brave in season Put the pistol to your head. Oh soon, and better so than later After long disgrace and scorn. You shot dead the household traitor. The soul that should not have been born. 67 A SIIUOPSHIRE LAD Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must : Dust 's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others, — Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers : Oh lad, you died as fits a man. Now to your grave shall friend and stranger With ruth and some with envy come : Undishonoured, clear of danger, Clean of guilt, pass hence and home. Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking ; And here, man, here 's the wreath I 've made 'T is not a gift that 's worth the taking. But wear it and it will not fade. 68 A SHROPSHIRE LAD XLV -^ If it chance your eye offend you. Pluck it out, lad, and be sound : 'T will hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you. Cut it off, lad, and be whole ; But play the man, stand up and end you. When your sickness is your soul. XLVI - Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow ; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December thi'ough ; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime ; 69 A SHUOrsiIlUK LAD Nor plod the winter l.uul to look For willows in the ley brook To cast them leafless round him : bring No sprny that ever buds in spring. But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two ; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, — Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again. To give him comfort : he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise. 70 A SHROPSHIRE LAD XLVII THE CARPENTER'S SON ' Here the hangman stops his cart : Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I : Live, lads, and I will die. ' Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade. Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads. ' Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own. Had I but left ill alone. 71 A Sll UOI'SII IKi: LAD * Now, you see, they han"; me hi^^h. And the people pjissing by Stoj) to shake their fists and curse ; So 't is couie from ill to worse. * Here hanjr I, and ri^ht and left Two poor fellows hang for tlieft : All the same 's the luck we prove. Though the midmost hangs for love. ' Gjmrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways ; See my neck and save your own : Comrades all, leave ill alone. * Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I : Live, lads, and I will die.' 72 A SHROPSHIRE LAD XLVIII Be still, ray soul, be still ; the arms you bear are brittle. Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather, — call to thought, if now you grieve a little. The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not ; tears fell down, I did not mourn ; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry : Then it was well with me, in days ere I was bom. 73 A SHROPSHIRE LAD Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul ; it is but for a season : Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look : high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation ; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain : Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation — Oh why did I awake ? when shall I sleep again ? 74 A SHROPSHIRE LAD XLIX Think no more, lad ; laugh, be jolly : Why should men make haste to die ? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky. Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever. Oh, they would be young for ever : Think no more ; 't is only thinking Lays lads underground. 9 75 A SHKOrSHIUE JLAD Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are tlie quietest places Under the sun. In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest under the sun. We still had sorrows to lighten. One could not be always glad, And lads knew trouble at Knighton WTien I was a Knighton lad. By bridges that Thames runs under. In London, the town built ill, 'T is sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still. 76 A SHROPSHIKE LAD And if as a lad grows older The troubles he bears are more. He carries his griefs on a shoulder That handselled them long before. Where shall one halt to deliver This luggage I 'd lief set down ? Not Thames^ not Teme is the river. Nor London nor Knighton the town 'T is a long way further than Knighton, A quieter place than Clun, Where doomsday may thunder and lighten And little 't will matter to one. 9 77 A SHROPSHIRE LAD LI Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a stiitue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he. And stedfastly he looked at me. ' Well met,' I thought the look would say, * We both were fashioned far away ; We neither knew, when we were young. These Londoners we live among.' Still he stood and eyed me hard. An earnest and a grave regard : ' What, lad, drooping with your lot ? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest. On my neck the collar prest ; 78 A SHROPSHIRE LAD Years when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 't is not for long : Stand, quit you like stone, be strong. So I thought his look would say ; And light on me my trouble lay. And I stept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. 9 LII - Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to laiow. There, in the windless night-time. The wanderer, marvelling why. Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. 79 A SHROrSHIUE LAD He hears : long since forgotten In fields where I was known. Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. LIII THE TRUE LOVER The lad came to the door at night. When lovers crown their vows. And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. 80 A SHROPSHIRE LAD ' I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my love, for aye ; So take me in your arms a space Before the east is grey. ' When I from hence away am past I shall not find a bride. And you shall be the first and last I ever lay beside.* She heard and went and knew not why ; Her heart to his she laid ; Light was the air beneath the sky But dark under the shade. * Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast Seems not to rise and fall. And here upon ray bosom prest There beats no heai-t at all ? ' 6 8i A SHROPSIIIUE LAD * Oh loud, nij girl, it once would knock. You should have felt it then ; But since for you I stopped the clock It never goes again.' , ' Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips Wet from your neck on mine ? What is it falling on my lips, My lad, that tastes of brine ? ' * Oh like enough 't is blood, my dear, For when the knife has slit The throat across from ear to ear 'T will bleed because of it.' Under the stars the air was light But dark below the boughs. The still air of the speechless night, W^hen lovers crown their vows. 82 A SHROPSHIRE LAD LIV With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had. For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid ; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. LV *' Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began. Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. S3 A SHROPSHIRE LAD Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try. Tread tlie mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine. Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep. 84 A SHROPSHIRE LAD LVI THE DAY OF BATTLE * Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go. And the guns begin the song, " Soldier, fly or stay for long." ' Comrade, if to turn and fly Made a soldier never die. Fly I would, for who would not ? 'T is sure no pleasure to be shot. 'But since the man that runs away Lives to die another day. And cowards' funerals, when they come, Are not wept so well at home, 85 A SHROPSHIRE LAD * Therefore, though the best is bad. Stand and do the best, my lad ; Stand and fight and see your slain, And take the bullet in your brain.' LVII You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over ; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'T is late to hearken, late to smile. But better late than never : I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever. 9- 86 A SHROPSHIRE LAD LVIII ,■' When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. Two friends kept step beside me. Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchyard And Ned lies long in jail. And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. LIX THE ISLE OF PORTLAND The star- filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown ; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. 87 A SIIHOI'SIIIUE LAD On yondrr islaiul, not to rise, Nevrr to stir forth free, Far from liis folk a (Kad lad lies That once was friends with nie. Lie you easy, dream you hj^ht. And sleep you fast for aye ; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. LX — Now hollow fires burn out to black. And lights are guttering low : Square your shoulders, lift your pack. And leave your friends and go. A SHROPSHIRE LAD Oh never fear, man, nought 's to dread, Look not left nor right : In all the endless road you tread There 's nothing but the night. LXI HUGH LEY STEEPLE The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people. And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun. And the clock strikes the hour And tells the time to none. 89 A siiKorsHiui: lad To south the licadstones cluster. The sunny mounds lie thick ; The dead are more in muster At Hugliley than the quick. North, for a soon-told number, Chill graves the sexton delves. And steeple-shadowed slumber The slayers of themselves. To north, to south, lie parted. With Hughley tower above. The kind, the single-hearted. The lads I used to love. And, south or north, 't is only A choice of friends one knows. And I shall ne'er be lonely Asleep with these or those. 90 A SHROPSHIRE LAD LXII ' Terence, this is stupid stuff : You eat your victuals fast enough ; There can't be much amiss, 't is clear. To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead ; It sleeps well, the horned head : We poor lads, 't is our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 't is to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad : Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad.* Why, if 't is dancing you would be. There 's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent ? 91 A SHROPSHIRE I. AD Oh many a peer of iMigland brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale 's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think : Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world *s not. And faith, 't is pleasant till 't is past : The mischief is that 't will not last. Oh I have been to Ludlow fair And left my necktie God knows where. And carried half way home, or near. Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer : Then the world seemed none so bad. And I myself a sterling lad ; And down in lovely muck I 've lain, Happy till I woke again. Then I saw the morning sky : Heigho, the tale was all a lie ; 92 A SHROPSHIRE LAD The world, it was the old world yet, I was I, my things were wet, And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck 's a chance, but ti'ouble 's sure, I 'd face it as a wise man would. And train for ill and not for good. 'T is true, the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale : Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it : if the smack is sour. The better for the embittered hour ; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my soul's stead ; And I will friend you, if I may. In the dark and cloudy day. 93 A SnUOPSIIIRE LAD There was a king reigned in the East : There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that s})rings to birth From the many-venomed earth ; First a little, thence to more. He sampled all her killing store ; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound. Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat ; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up : They shook, they stared as white 's their shirt Them it was their poison hurt. — I tell the tale that I heard told, Mithridates, he died old. 94 A SHROPSHIRE LAD LXIII _ I HOED and trenched and weeded. And took the flowers to fair : I brought them home unheeded ; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find. When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seeds the birds devour. And some the season mars. But here and there will flower The solitary stars, 95 A SIIROrSHIUE l.AI) And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spriiii; eomes on. And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone. The End •T7 ^ 3 1205 02043 3924 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY A A 001 409 815 6 A