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Stars, I have seen them fall, But when they drop and die No star is lost at all From all the star-sown sky. The toil of all that be Helps not the primal fault It rains into the sea And still the sea is salt.

A. E. Housman

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A. E. Housman
Age: 77 †
Born: 1859
Born: January 1
Died: 1936
Died: January 1
Classical Philologist
Classical Scholar
Poet
University Teacher
Writer
Worcs
A. E. Housman
Stills
Rain
Toil
Still
Sea
Salt
Seen
Fault
Stars
Drop
Dies
Helps
Fall
Faults
Sown
Lost
Sky
Rains
Helping
Star
Primal

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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.
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Give crowns and pounds and guineas But not your heart away Give pearls away and rubies, But keep your fancy free.
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Tell me not here, it needs not saying, What tune the enchantress plays In aftermaths of soft September Or under blanching mays, For she and I were long acquainted And I knew all her ways.
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Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose, But young men think it is, and we were young.
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I do not choose the right word, I get rid of the wrong one.
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Good night ensured release, Imperishable peace, Have these for yours. * While sky and sea and land And earth's foundations stand And heaven endures. *These three lines are on the tablet over Housman's grave in the parish church at Ludlow, Shropshire, England
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Poetry is not the thing said, but the way of saying it.
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Into my hear an air that kills through yon far country blows what are those blue remembered hills what spires,what farms are those? that is the land of lost content I can see it shining plain the happy highways where I went and cannot come again.
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He would not stay for me, and who can wonder? He would not stay for me to stand and gaze. I shook his hand, and tore my heart in sunder, And went with half my life about my ways.
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This is for all ill-treated fellows Unborn and unbegot, For them to read when they're in trouble And I am not.
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The fairies break their dances And leave the printed lawn.
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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.
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I sought them far and found them, The sure, the straight, the brave, The hearts I lost my own to, The souls I could not save They braced their belts about them, They crossed in ships the sea, They sought and found six feet of ground, And there they died for me.
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All knowledge is precious whether or not it serves the slightest human use.
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Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis 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 morn is all the same as night.
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His folly has not fellow Beneath the blue of day That gives to man or woman His heart and soul away.
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Happy bridegroom, Hesper brings All desired and timely things. All whom morning sends to roam, Hesper loves to lead them home. Home return who him behold, Child to mother, sheep to fold, Bird to nest from wandering wide: Happy bridegroom, seek your bride.
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Hope lies to mortals And most believe her, But man's deceiver Was never mine.
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And silence sounds no worse than cheers After earth has stopped the ears.
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I find Cambridge an asylum, in every sense of the word.
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