Quote

They carry back bright to the coiner the mintage of man,The lads that will die in their glory and never be old.

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
Lad
Bright
Carry
Glory
Dies
Back
Never
Men
Lads

More quotes by A. E. Housman

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The laws of God, the laws of man, He may keep that will and can Not I: let God and man decree Laws for themselves and not for me.
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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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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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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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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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The troubles of our proud and angry dust are from eternity, and shall not fail. Bear them we can, and if we can we must. Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.
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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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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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Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough.
A. E. Housman
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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.
A. E. Housman
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You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever.
A. E. Housman
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I think that to transfuse emotion - not to transmit thought but to set up in the reader's sense a vibration corresponding to what was felt by the writer - is the peculiar function of poetry.
A. E. Housman
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Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink for fellows whom it hurts to think.
A. E. Housman
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And malt does more than Milton can to justify God's ways to man.
A. E. Housman
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Some men are more interesting than their books but my book is more interesting than its man.
A. E. Housman
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The house of delusions is cheap to build but drafty to live in.
A. E. Housman
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June suns, you cannot store them To warm the winter's cold, The lad that hopes for heaven Shall fill his mouth with mould.
A. E. Housman
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Oh when I was in love with you, Then I was clean and brave, And miles around the wonder grew How well did I behave. And now the fancy passes by, And nothing will remain, And miles around they'll say that I Am quite myself again.
A. E. Housman
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Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.
A. E. Housman
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Strapped, noosed, nighing his hour, He stood and counted them and cursed his luck And then the clock collected in the tower Its strength, and struck.
A. E. Housman