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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.

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
Heart
Stay
Way
Stand
Would
Went
Life
Ways
Hand
Tore
Wonder
Heartache
Half
Shook
Hands
Gaze

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The average man, if he meddles with criticism at all, is a conservative critic.
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Poetry is not the thing said, but the way of saying it.
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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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In every American there is an air of incorrigible innocence, which seems to conceal a diabolical cunning.
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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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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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The mortal sickness of a mind too unhappy to be kind.
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Housman is one of my heroes and always has been. He was a detestable and miserable man. Arrogant, unspeakably lonely, cruel, and so on, but and absolutely marvellous minor poet, I think, and a great scholar.
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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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Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure.
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Now, of my threescore years and ten, Twenty will not come again.
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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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I do not choose the right word, I get rid of the wrong one.
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I, a stranger and afraid, in a world I never made.
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And malt does more than Milton can to justify God's ways to man.
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