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Who made the world I cannot tell 'Tis made, and here am I in hell. My hand, though now my knuckles bleed, I never soiled with such a deed.
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
Though
Soiled
Tell
Knuckles
Hands
Bleed
Cannot
Deed
Made
Humorous
Never
Deeds
World
Hell
Hand
More quotes by A. E. Housman
Ten thousand times I've done my best and all's to do again.
A. E. Housman
Earth and high heaven are fixed of old and founded strong.
A. E. Housman
And malt does more than Milton can to justify God's ways to man.
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Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.
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Lovers lying two and two Ask not whom they sleep beside, And the bridegroom all night through Never turns him to the bride.
A. E. Housman
Stone, steel, dominions pass, Faith too, no wonder So leave alone the grass That I am under.
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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 'tis I.
A. E. Housman
In every American there is an air of incorrigible innocence, which seems to conceal a diabolical cunning.
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The rainy Pleiads wester Orion plunges prone, And midnight strikes and hastens, And I lie down alone.
A. E. Housman
When the journey's over/There'll be time enough to sleep.
A. E. Housman
I could no more define poetry than a terrier can define a rat.
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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.
A. E. Housman
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
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough.
A. E. Housman
They say my verse is sad: no wonder Its narrow measure spans Tears of eternity, and sorrow, Not mine. but man's.
A. E. Housman
The average man, if he meddles with criticism at all, is a conservative critic.
A. E. Housman
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
A. E. Housman
I find Cambridge an asylum, in every sense of the word.
A. E. Housman
On Wenlock Edge the wood's in troubleHis forest fleece the Wrekin heavesThe wind it plies the saplings double, And thick on Severn snow the leaves.
A. E. Housman
The fairies break their dances And leave the printed lawn.
A. E. Housman
