Alfred Edward Housman

(26 March 1859 – 30 April 1936 / Worcestershire)

The Stinging Nettle - Poem by Alfred Edward Housman

The stinging nettle only
Will still be found to stand:
The numberless, the lonely,
The thronger of the land,
The leaf that hurts the hand.

That thrives, come sun, come showers;
Blow east, blow west, it springs;
It peoples towns, and towers
Above the courts of Kings,
And touch it and it stings.


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Read poems about / on: lonely, sun, spring



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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