Twice A Week The Winter Thorough Poem by Alfred Edward Housman
Twice A Week The Winter Thorough
Twice a week the winter thorough
Here stood I to keep the goal:
Football then was fighting sorrow
For the young man's soul.
Now in Maytime to the wicket
Out I march with bat and pad:
See the son of grief at cricket
Trying to be glad.
Try I will; no harm in trying:
Wonder 'tis how little mirth
Keeps the bones of man from lying
On the bed of earth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/24/2026 2:48:01 AM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
Good poem Well written Sylva