Alfred Edward Housman

(26 March 1859 – 30 April 1936 / Worcestershire)

Xii: An Epitaph - Poem by Alfred Edward Housman

Stay, if you list, O passer by the way;
Yet night approaches; better not to stay.
I never sigh, nor flush, nor knit the brow,
Nor grieve to think how ill God made me, now.
Here, with one balm for many fevers found,
Whole of an ancient evil, I sleep sound.

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, January 28, 2014

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