Alfred Edward Housman
Alfred Edward Housman Quotes
''“Good creatures, do you love your livesA.E. Housman, More Poems
And have you ears for sense?
Here is a knife like other knives,
That cost me eighteen pence.
I need but stick it in my heart
And down will come the sky,
And earths foundations will depart
And all you folk will die.” ''
''“I, a stranger and afraidA.E. Housman, Last Poems
In a world I never made.” ''
''“Into my heart an air that killsA.E. Housman, A Shropshire Lad
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?
That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.”''
''“Existence is not itself a good thing, that we should spend a lifetime securing its necessaries: a life spent, however victoriously, in securing the necessaries of life is no more than an elaborate furnishing and decoration of apartments for the reception of a guest who is never to come. Our business here is not to live, but to live happily.” ''A.E. Housman
''“The stars have not dealt me the worst they could do:A.E. Housman, A Shropshire Lad
My pleasures are plenty, my troubles are two.
But oh, my two troubles they reave me of rest,
The brains in my head and the heart in my breast.
Oh, grant me the ease that is granted so free,
The birthright of multitudes, give it to me,
That relish their victuals and rest on their bed
With flint in the bosom and guts in the head.”''
''“Stone, steel, dominions pass,A.E. Housman, More Poems
Faith too, no wonder;
So leave alone the grass
That I am under.” ''
''“June suns, you cannot store themA.E. Housman, More Poems
To warm the winters cold,
The lad that hopes for heaven
Shall fill his mouth with mould.” ''
''“Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose,A.E. Housman, More Poems
But young men think it is, and we were young.” ''
''“I do not choose the right word, I get rid of the wrong one.”''A.E. Housman
''“Wanderers eastward, wanderers west,A.E. Housman, A Shropshire Lad
Know you why you cannot rest?
Tis that every mothers son
Travails with a skeleton.
Lie down in the bed of dust;
Bear the fruit that bear you must;
Bring the eternal seed to light,
And morn is all the same as night.” ''
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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 ...
He stood, and heard the steeple
Sprinkle the quarters on the morning town.
One, two, three, four, to market-place and people
It tossed them down.
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.