Alfred Edward Housman
Alfred Edward Housman Poems
- To An Athlete Dying Young The time you won your town the ...
- Here Dead We Lie Here dead we lie Because we did not choose...
- Be Still, My Soul, Be Still Be still, my soul, be still; the ...
- Along The Field As We Came By ALONG the field as we came by ...
- The Carpenter's Son "Here the hangman stops his cart: Now ...
- When I Was One-And-Twenty When I was one-and-twenty I heard ...
- Loveliest Of Trees, The Cherry... Loveliest of trees, the ...
Usually known as A. E. Housman, was an English classical scholar and poet, best known to the general public for his cycle of poems A Shropshire Lad. Lyrical and almost epigrammatic in form, the poems were mostly written before 1900. Their wistful evocation of doomed youth in the English countryside, in spare language and distinctive imagery, appealed strongly to late Victorian and Edwardian taste, and to many early 20th century English composers (beginning with Arthur Somervell) both before and after the First World War. Through its song-setting the poetry became closely associated with that era, and with Shropshire itself.
Housman was counted one of the foremost classicists of ... more »
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Quotationsmore quotations »
“The heart from out the bosomA.E. Housman
Was never given in vain
But bought with sighs aplenty
And sold for endless rue
And now I am two and twenty
And oh tis true, tis tr...
“Stars, I have seen them fall,
But when they drop and die
No star is lost at all
From all the star-sown sky.
The toil of all that be
Helps not the primal fault;
A.E. Housman, A Shropshire Lad
''“Give me a land of boughs in leafA.E. Housman
A land of trees that stand;
Where trees are fallen there is grief;
I love no leafless land.” ''
“The sum of things to be known is inexhaustible, and however long we read, we shall never come to the end of our story-book."A.E. Housman, Selected Prose
(Introductory lecture as professor of Latin at University C...
''“All knots that lovers tieA.E. Housman, More Poems
Are tied to sever.
Here shall your sweetheart lie,
Untrue for ever.” ''
To An Athlete Dying Young
The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.
To-day, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.
Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.
Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers
After earth has ...