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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.

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
Must
Eternal
Seeds
Every
Rest
Dust
Bring
Bed
Eastward
Lying
Bear
Morn
Mother
Fruit
Wanderers
Night
Son
Skeleton
Cannot
West
Skeletons
Light
Bears
Seed

More quotes by A. E. Housman

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Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.
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That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, the happy highways where I went and cannot come again.
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Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack And leave your friends and go.
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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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Now, of my threescore years and ten, Twenty will not come again.
A. E. Housman
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They say my verse is sad: no wonder Its narrow measure spans Tears of eternity, and sorrow, Not mine. but man's.
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I find Cambridge an asylum, in every sense of the word.
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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.
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Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough.
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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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With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipped maiden And many a lightfoot lad.
A. E. Housman
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But men at whiles are sober And think by fits and starts. And if they think, they fasten Their hands upon their hearts
A. E. Housman
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Experience has taught me, when I am shaving of a morning, to keep watch over my thoughts, because, if a line of poetry strays into my memory, my skin bristles so that the razor ceases to act.
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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.
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Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose, But young men think it is, and we were young.
A. E. Housman
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I could no more define poetry than a terrier can define a rat.
A. E. Housman
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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.
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There, by the starlit fences The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs.
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Tomorrow, more's the pity, Away we both must hie, To air the ditty and to earth I.
A. E. Housman
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I do not choose the right word, I get rid of the wrong one.
A. E. Housman