Alfred Edward Housman

(26 March 1859 – 30 April 1936 / Worcestershire)

Alfred Edward Housman Poems

41. Oh, See How Thick The Goldcup Flowers 1/3/2003
42. Oh, When I Was In Love With You 1/3/2003
43. On Moonlit Heath And Lonesome Bank 1/3/2003
44. On The Idle Hill Of Summer 1/3/2003
45. On Wenlock Edge The Wood's In Trouble 1/3/2003
46. On Your Midnight Pallet Lying 1/3/2003
47. Others, I Am Not The First 1/3/2003
48. Reveille 1/3/2003
49. Revolution 2/5/2016
50. Say, Lad, Have You Things To Do? 1/3/2003
51. Shot? So Quick, So Clean An Ending? 1/3/2003
52. Soldier from the wars returning 1/7/2016
53. Stars 1/3/2003
54. Tell Me Not Here, It Needs Not Saying 1/3/2003
55. Terence, This Is Stupid Stuff 1/3/2003
56. The Carpenter's Son 1/3/2003
57. The Chestnut Casts His Flambeaux 1/3/2003
58. The Day Of Battle 1/3/2003
59. The Fairies Break Their Dances 1/3/2003
60. The Grizzly Bear 1/3/2003
61. The Immortal Part 1/3/2003
62. The Isle Of Portland 1/3/2003
63. The Lads In Their Hundreds 1/3/2003
64. The Laws Of God, The Laws Of Man 1/3/2003
65. The Lent Lily 1/3/2003
66. The Merry Guide 1/3/2003
67. The New Mistress 1/3/2003
68. The Nonsense Verse 1/28/2014
69. The Rainy Pleiads Wester 1/3/2003
70. The Recruit 1/3/2003
71. The Stinging Nettle 1/3/2003
72. The Street Sounds To The Soldiers' Tread 1/3/2003
73. The True Lover 1/3/2003
74. The Welsh Marches 1/3/2003
75. The Winds Out Of The West Land Blow 1/3/2003
76. There Pass The Careless People 1/3/2003
77. Think No More, Lad 1/3/2003
78. This Time Of Year A Twelvemonth Past 1/3/2003
79. Tis Time, I Think, By Wenlock Town 1/3/2003
80. To An Athlete Dying Young 1/3/2003

Comments about Alfred Edward Housman

  • Ian K (7/23/2017 12:43:00 PM)

    The master of melancholy! Housman was in fact a rather embittered but brilliant academic and a homosexual at a time when it was not only illegal but something that had for most to remain repressed. I suppose therefore that this informs all his work and is fairly obvious, in hindsight, in some of the poems at least.

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  • Jeanann Kerr (8/13/2013 8:19:00 PM)

    Does anyone know the title of Housman's poem cited in The Walkabout? It is a lovely poem but I can't find it in Bartlett's. Thanks. Ms. Kerr

  • Sankaran Ayya (2/2/2012 7:31:00 AM)

    poetry should appeal to emotions rather than to the intellect
    Housman's golden words, poetry writers should appreciate and follow
    as cardinal principle

  • Mark Adams (1/9/2012 6:05:00 PM)

    From a biography I read on Housman (I sorry I don't recall the title or author) , Housman was believed to have possibly been homosexual, and was suspected by some family members as being so. If this was truly the case, I believe it may put different light on the point of few of some of his poems.

  • Maria Gough (9/26/2006 11:41:00 AM)

    Thank you for your daily poem!

  • Richard Stivelman (6/17/2006 1:30:00 PM)

    Thanks for all the Housman. I believe, however, that you have a 'typo' in the poem 'Look Not In my Eyes'. I believe it shoud read '...for fear they (not 'thy') mirror true...'
    Dick Stivelman

  • Artie Thayer (10/4/2003 6:16:00 AM)

    Thank you for making this poem available. In the movie, Out of Africa, Karen Blitzen reads from a book of poems. The title is partially obliterated, but I could see Hous... and assumed Houseman. I was able to find it on your site. What a fine poem. Thanks again. - artie

Best Poem of Alfred Edward Housman

Farewell To Barn And Stack And Tree

"Farewell to barn and stack and tree,
Farewell to Severn shore.
Terence, look your last at me,
For I come home no more.

"The sun burns on the half-mown hill,
By now the blood is dried;
And Maurice amongst the hay lies still
And my knife is in his side.

"My mother thinks us long away;
'Tis time the field were mown.
She had two sons at rising day,
To-night she'll be alone.

"And here's a bloody hand to shake,
And oh, man, here's good-bye;
We'll sweat no more on scythe and rake,
My bloody hands and I.

"I wish you ...

Read the full of Farewell To Barn And Stack And Tree

The Rainy Pleiads Wester

The rainy Pleiads wester,
Orion plunges prone,
The stroke of midnight ceases
And I lie down alone.

The rainy Pleiads wester,
And seek beyond the sea
The head that I shall dream of
That will not dream of me.

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