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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.

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
Fair
Necktie
Half
Neckties
Left
Pints
Home
Carried
Way
Beer
Near
Fairs

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Give me a land of boughs in leaf A land of trees that stand Where trees are fallen there is grief I love no leafless land.
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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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A moment's thought would have shown him. But a moment is a long time, and thought is a painful process.
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'Tis 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.
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Oh who is that young sinner with the handcuffs on his wrist? And what has he been after that they groan and shake their fists? And wherefore is he wearing such a conscience-stricken air? Oh they're taking him to prison for the colour of his hair.
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Ten thousand times I've done my best and all's to do again.
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The thoughts of others Were light and fleeting, Of lovers' meeting Or luck or fame. Mine were of trouble, And mine were steady So I was ready When trouble came.
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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
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I do not choose the right word, I get rid of the wrong one.
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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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Earth and high heaven are fixed of old and founded strong.
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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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The rainy Pleiads wester Orion plunges prone, And midnight strikes and hastens, And I lie down alone.
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Hope lies to mortals And most believe her, But man's deceiver Was never mine.
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Three minutes thought would suffice to find this out but thought is irksome and three minutes is a long time.
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Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill
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Good religious poetry... is likely to be most justly appreciated and most discriminately relished by the undevout.
A. E. Housman
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Existence is not itself a good thing, that we should spend a lifetime securing its necessaries: a life spent, however victoriously, in securing the necessaries of life is no more than an elaborate furnishing and decoration of apartments for the reception of a guest who is never to come. Our business here is not to live, but to live happily.
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Clay lies still, but blood's a rover Breath's aware that will not keep. Up, lad: when the journey's over then there'll be time enough to sleep.
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I am not a pessimist but a pejorist (as George Eliot said she was not an optimist but a meliorist) and that philosophy is founded on my observation of the world, not on anything so trivial and irrelevant as personal history.
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