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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Last Poems, by A. E. Housman
+#3 in our series by A. E. Housman
+
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
+
+Title: Last Poems
+
+Author: A. E. Housman
+
+Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7848]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on May 22, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LAST POEMS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by A. P. Saulters
+
+
+
+
+
+LAST POEMS
+
+By A. E. Housman
+
+
+I publish these poems, few though they are, because it is not likely
+that I shall ever be impelled to write much more.  I can no longer
+expect to be revisited by the continuous excitement under which in
+the early months of 1895 I wrote the greater part of my first book,
+nor indeed could I well sustain it if  it came; and it is best that what
+I have written should be printed while I am here to see it through
+the press and control its spelling and punctuation.  About a quarter
+of this matter belongs to the April of the present year, but most of
+it to dates between 1895 and 1910.
+
+September 1922
+
+
+
+/We'll to the weeds no more,
+The laurels are all cut,
+The bowers are bare of bay
+That once the Muses wore;
+The year draws in the day
+And soon will evening shut:
+The laurels all are cut,
+We'll to the woods no more.
+Oh we'll no more, no more
+To the leafy woods away,
+To the high wild woods of laurel
+And the bowers of bay no more./
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+THE WEST
+
+Beyond the moor and the mountain crest
+--Comrade, look not on the west--
+The sun is down and drinks away
+From air and land the lees of day.
+
+The long cloud and the single pine
+Sentinel the ending line,
+And out beyond it, clear and wan,
+Reach the gulfs of evening on.
+
+The son of woman turns his brow
+West from forty countries now,
+And, as the edge of heaven he eyes,
+Thinks eternal thoughts, and sighs.
+
+Oh wide's the world, to rest or roam,
+With change abroad and cheer at home,
+Fights and furloughs, talk and tale,
+Company and beef and ale.
+
+But if I front the evening sky
+Silent on the west look I,
+And my comrade, stride for stride,
+Paces silent at my side,
+
+Comrade, look not on the west:
+'Twill have the heart out of your breast;
+'Twill take your thoughts and sink them far,
+Leagues beyond the sunset bar.
+
+Oh lad, I fear that yon's the sea
+Where they fished for you and me,
+And there, from whence we both were ta'en,
+You and I shall drown again.
+
+Send not on your soul before
+To dive from that beguiling shore,
+And let not yet the swimmer leave
+His clothes upon the sands of eve.
+
+Too fast to yonder strand forlorn
+We journey, to the sunken bourn,
+To flush the fading tinges eyed
+By other lads at eventide.
+
+Wide is the world, to rest or roam,
+And early 'tis for turning home:
+Plant your heel on earth and stand,
+And let's forget our native land.
+
+When you and I are split on air
+Long we shall be strangers there;
+Friends of flesh and bone are best;
+Comrade, look not on the west.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+As I gird on for fighting
+    My sword upon my thigh,
+I think on old ill fortunes
+    Of better men than I.
+
+Think I, the round world over,
+    What golden lads are low
+With hurts not mine to mourn for
+    And shames I shall not know.
+
+What evil luck soever
+    For me remains in store,
+'Tis sure much finer fellows
+    Have fared much worse before.
+
+So here are things to think on
+    That ought to make me brave,
+As I strap on for fighting
+    My sword that will not save.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+Her strong enchantments failing,
+    Her towers of fear in wreck,
+Her limbecks dried of poisons
+    And the knife at her neck,
+
+The Queen of air and darkness
+    Begins to shrill and cry,
+'O young man, O my slayer,
+    To-morrow you shall die.'
+
+O Queen of air and darkness,
+    I think 'tis truth you say,
+And I shall die to-morrow;
+    But you will die to-day.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+ILLIC JACET
+
+Oh hard is the bed they have made him,
+    And common the blanket and cheap;
+But there he will lie as they laid him:
+    Where else could you trust him to sleep?
+
+To sleep when the bugle is crying
+    And cravens have heard and are brave,
+When mothers and sweethearts are sighing
+    And lads are in love with the grave.
+
+Oh dark is the chamber and lonely,
+    And lights and companions depart;
+But lief will he lose them and only
+    Behold the desire of his heart.
+
+And low is the roof, but it covers
+    A sleeper content to repose;
+And far from his friends and his lovers
+    He lies with the sweetheart he chose.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+GRENADIER
+
+The Queen she sent to look for me,
+    The sergeant he did say,
+'Young man, a soldier will you be
+    For thirteen pence a day?'
+
+For thirteen pence a day did I
+    Take off the things I wore,
+And I have marched to where I lie,
+    And I shall march no more.
+
+My mouth is dry, my shirt is wet,
+    My blood runs all away,
+So now I shall not die in debt
+    For thirteen pence a day.
+
+To-morrow after new young men
+    The sergeant he must see,
+For things will all be over then
+    Between the Queen and me.
+
+And I shall have to bate my price,
+    For in the grave, they say,
+Is neither knowledge nor device
+    Nor thirteen pence a day.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+LANCER
+
+I 'listed at home for a lancer,
+   /Oh who would not sleep with the brave?/
+I 'listed at home for a lancer
+    To ride on a horse to my grave.
+
+And over the seas we were bidden
+    A country to take and to keep;
+And far with the brave I have ridden,
+    And now with the brave I shall sleep.
+
+For round me the men will be lying
+    That learned me the way to behave.
+And showed me my business of dying:
+   /Oh who would not sleep with the brave?/
+
+They ask and there is not an answer;
+Says I, I will 'list for a lancer,
+   /Oh who would not sleep with the brave?/
+
+And I with the brave shall be sleeping
+    At ease on my mattress of loam,
+When back from their taking and keeping
+    The squadron is riding home.
+
+The wind with the plumes will be playing,
+    The girls will stand watching them wave,
+And eyeing my comrades and saying
+   /Oh who would not sleep with the brave?/
+
+They ask and there is not an answer;
+Says you, I will 'list for a lancer,
+   /Oh who would not sleep with the brave?/
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+In valleys green and still
+    Where lovers wander maying
+They hear from over hill
+    A music playing.
+
+Behind the drum and fife,
+    Past hawthornwood and hollow,
+Through earth and out of life
+    The soldiers follow.
+
+The soldier's is the trade:
+    In any wind or weather
+He steals the heart of maid
+    And man together.
+
+The lover and his lass
+    Beneath the hawthorn lying
+Have heard the soldiers pass,
+    And both are sighing.
+
+And down the distance they
+    With dying note and swelling
+Walk the resounding way
+    To the still dwelling.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+Soldier from the wars returning,
+    Spoiler of the taken town,
+Here is ease that asks not earning;
+    Turn you in and sit you down.
+
+Peace is come and wars are over,
+    Welcome you and welcome all,
+While the charger crops the clover
+    And his bridle hangs in stall.
+
+Now no more of winters biting,
+    Filth in trench from fall to spring,
+Summers full of sweat and fighting
+    For the Kesar or the King.
+
+Rest you, charger, rust you, bridle;
+    Kings and kesars, keep your pay;
+Soldier, sit you down and idle
+    At the inn of night for aye.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+The chestnut casts his flambeaux, and the flowers
+    Stream from the hawthorn on the wind away,
+The doors clap to, the pane is blind with showers.
+    Pass me the can, lad; there's an end of May.
+
+There's one spoilt spring to scant our mortal lot,
+    One season ruined of our little store.
+May will be fine next year as like as not:
+    Oh ay, but then we shall be twenty-four.
+
+We for a certainty are not the first
+    Have sat in taverns while the tempest hurled
+Their hopeful plans to emptiness, and cursed
+    Whatever brute and blackguard made the world.
+
+It is in truth iniquity on high
+    To cheat our sentenced souls of aught they crave,
+And mar the merriment as you and I
+    Fare on our long fool's-errand to the grave.
+
+Iniquity it is; but pass the can.
+    My lad, no pair of kings our mothers bore;
+Our only portion is the estate of man:
+    We want the moon, but we shall get no more.
+
+If here to-day the cloud of thunder lours
+    To-morrow it will hie on far behests;
+The flesh will grieve on other bones than ours
+    Soon, and the soul will mourn in other breasts.
+
+The troubles of our proud and angry dust
+    Are from eternity, and shall not fail.
+Bear them we can, and if we can we must.
+    Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+Could man be drunk for ever
+    With liquor, love, or fights,
+Lief should I rouse at morning
+    And lief lie down of nights.
+
+But men at whiles are sober
+    And think by fits and starts,
+And if they think, they fasten
+    Their hands upon their hearts.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+Yonder see the morning blink:
+    The sun is up, and up must I,
+To wash and dress and eat and drink
+And look at things and talk and think
+    And work, and God knows why.
+
+Oh often have I washed and dressed
+    And what's to show for all my pain?
+Let me lie abed and rest:
+Ten thousand times I've done my best
+    And all's to do again.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+    The laws of God, the laws of man,
+He may keep that will and can;
+Now I:  let God and man decree
+Laws for themselves and not for me;
+And if my ways are not as theirs
+Let them mind their own affairs.
+Their deeds I judge and much condemn,
+Yet when did I make laws for them?
+Please yourselves, say I, and they
+Need only look the other way.
+But no, they will not; they must still
+Wrest their neighbour to their will,
+And make me dance as they desire
+With jail and gallows and hell-fire.
+And how am I to face the odds
+Of man's bedevilment and God's?
+I, a stranger and afraid
+In a world I never made.
+They will be master, right or wrong;
+Though both are foolish, both are strong,
+And since, my soul, we cannot fly
+To Saturn or Mercury,
+Keep we must, if keep we can,
+These foreign laws of God and man.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+THE DESERTER
+
+"What sound awakened me, I wonder,
+    For now 'tis dumb."
+"Wheels on the road most like, or thunder:
+    Lie down; 'twas not the drum.:
+
+"Toil at sea and two in haven
+    And trouble far:
+Fly, crow, away, and follow, raven,
+    And all that croaks for war."
+
+"Hark, I heard the bugle crying,
+    And where am I?
+My friends are up and dressed and dying,
+    And I will dress and die."
+
+"Oh love is rare and trouble plenty
+    And carrion cheap,
+And daylight dear at four-and-twenty:
+    Lie down again and sleep."
+
+"Reach me my belt and leave your prattle:
+    Your hour is gone;
+But my day is the day of battle,
+    And that comes dawning on.
+
+"They mow the field of man in season:
+    Farewell, my fair,
+And, call it truth or call it treason,
+    Farewell the vows that were."
+
+"Ay, false heart, forsake me lightly:
+    'Tis like the brave.
+They find no bed to joy in rightly
+    Before they find the grave.
+
+"Their love is for their own undoing.
+    And east and west
+They scour about the world a-wooing
+    The bullet in their breast.
+
+"Sail away the ocean over,
+    Oh sail away,
+And lie there with your leaden lover
+    For ever and a day."
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+THE CULPRIT
+
+The night my father got me
+    His mind was not on me;
+He did not plague his fancy
+    To muse if I should be
+    The son you see.
+
+The day my mother bore me
+    She was a fool and glad,
+For all the pain I cost her,
+    That she had borne the lad
+    That borne she had.
+
+My mother and my father
+    Out of the light they lie;
+The warrant would not find them,
+    And here 'tis only I
+    Shall hang so high.
+
+Oh let not man remember
+    The soul that God forgot,
+But fetch the county kerchief
+    And noose me in the knot,
+    And I will rot.
+
+For so the game is ended
+    That should not have begun.
+My father and my mother
+    They had a likely son,
+    And I have none.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+EIGHT O'CLOCK
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+SPRING MORNING
+
+Star and coronal and bell
+    April underfoot renews,
+And the hope of man as well
+    Flowers among the morning dews.
+
+Now the old come out to look,
+    Winter past and winter's pains.
+How the sky in pool and brook
+    Glitters on the grassy plains.
+
+Easily the gentle air
+    Wafts the turning season on;
+Things to comfort them are there,
+    Though 'tis true the best are gone.
+
+Now the scorned unlucky lad
+    Rousing from his pillow gnawn
+Mans his heart and deep and glad
+    Drinks the valiant air of dawn.
+
+Half the night he longed to die,
+    Now are sown on hill and plain
+Pleasures worth his while to try
+    Ere he longs to die again.
+
+Blue the sky from east to west
+    Arches, and the world is wide,
+Though the girl he loves the best
+    Rouses from another's side.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+ASTRONOMY
+
+The Wain upon the northern steep
+    Descends and lifts away.
+Oh I will sit me down and weep
+    For bones in Africa.
+
+For pay and medals, name and rank,
+    Things that he has not found,
+He hove the Cross to heaven and sank
+    The pole-star underground.
+
+And now he does not even see
+    Signs of the nadir roll
+At night over the ground where he
+    Is buried with the pole.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+The rain, it streams on stone and hillock,
+    The boot clings to the clay.
+Since all is done that's due and right
+Let's home; and now, my lad, good-night,
+    For I must turn away.
+
+Good-night, my lad, for nought's eternal;
+    No league of ours, for sure.
+Tomorrow I shall miss you less,
+And ache of heart and heaviness
+    Are things that time should cure.
+
+Over the hill the highway marches
+    And what's beyond is wide:
+Oh soon enough will pine to nought
+Remembrance and the faithful thought
+    That sits the grave beside.
+
+The skies, they are not always raining
+    Nor grey the twelvemonth through;
+And I shall meet good days and mirth,
+And range the lovely lands of earth
+    With friends no worse than you.
+
+But oh, my man, the house is fallen
+    That none can build again;
+My man, how full of joy and woe
+Your mother bore you years ago
+    To-night to lie in the rain.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+In midnights of November,
+    When Dead Man's Fair is nigh,
+And danger in the valley,
+    And anger in the sky,
+
+Around the huddling homesteads
+    The leafless timber roars,
+And the dead call the dying
+    And finger at the doors.
+
+Oh, yonder faltering fingers
+    Are hands I used to hold;
+Their false companion drowses
+    And leaves them in the cold.
+
+Oh, to the bed of ocean,
+    To Africk and to Ind,
+I will arise and follow
+    Along the rainy wind.
+
+The night goes out and under
+    With all its train forlorn;
+Hues in the east assemble
+    And cocks crow up the morn.
+
+The living are the living
+    And dead the dead will stay,
+And I will sort with comrades
+    That face the beam of day.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+The night is freezing fast,
+    To-morrow comes December;
+          And winterfalls of old
+Are with me from the past;
+    And chiefly I remember
+          How Dick would hate the cold.
+
+Fall, winter, fall; for he,
+    Prompt hand and headpiece clever,
+          Has woven a winter robe,
+And made of earth and sea
+    His overcoat for ever,
+          And wears the turning globe.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+The fairies break their dances
+    And leave the printed lawn,
+And up from India glances
+    The silver sail of dawn.
+
+The candles burn their sockets,
+    The blinds let through the day,
+The young man feels his pockets
+    And wonders what's to pay.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+The sloe was lost in flower,
+    The April elm was dim;
+That was the lover's hour,
+    The hour for lies and him.
+
+If thorns are all the bower,
+    If north winds freeze the fir,
+Why, 'tis another's hour,
+    The hour for truth and her.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+In the morning, in the morning,
+    In the happy field of hay,
+Oh they looked at one another
+    By the light of day.
+
+In the blue and silver morning
+    On the haycock as they lay,
+Oh they looked at one another
+    And they looked away.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+EPITHALAMIUM
+
+    He is here, Urania's son,
+Hymen come from Helicon;
+God that glads the lover's heart,
+He is here to join and part.
+So the groomsman quits your side
+And the bridegroom seeks the bride:
+Friend and comrade yield you o'er
+To her that hardly loves you more.
+
+    Now the sun his skyward beam
+Has tilted from the Ocean stream.
+Light the Indies, laggard sun:
+Happy bridegroom, day is done,
+And the star from Ota's steep
+Calls to bed but not to sleep.
+
+    Happy bridegroom, Hesper brings
+All desired and timely things.
+All whom morning sends to roam,
+Hesper loves to lead them home.
+Home return who him behold,
+Child to mother, sheep to fold,
+Bird to nest from wandering wide:
+Happy bridegroom, seek your bride.
+
+    Pour it out, the golden cup
+Given and guarded, brimming up,
+Safe through jostling markets borne
+And the thicket of the thorn;
+Folly spurned and danger past,
+Pour it to the god at last.
+
+    Now, to smother noise and light,
+Is stolen abroad the wildering night,
+And the blotting shades confuse
+Path and meadow full of dews;
+And the high heavens, that all control,
+Turn in silence round the pole.
+Catch the starry beams they shed
+Prospering the marriage bed,
+And breed the land that reared your prime
+Sons to stay the rot of time.
+All is quiet, no alarms;
+Nothing fear of nightly harms.
+Safe you sleep on guarded ground,
+And in silent circle round
+The thoughts of friends keep watch and ward,
+Harnessed angels, hand on sword.
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+THE ORACLES
+
+'Tis mute, the word they went to hear on high Dodona mountain
+    When winds were in the oakenshaws and all the cauldrons tolled,
+And mute's the midland navel-stone beside the singing fountain,
+    And echoes list to silence now where gods told lies of old.
+
+I took my question to the shrine that has not ceased from speaking,
+    The heart within, that tells the truth and tells it twice as plain;
+And from the cave of oracles I heard the priestess shrieking
+    That she and I should surely die and never live again.
+
+Oh priestess, what you cry is clear, and sound good sense I think it;
+    But let the screaming echoes rest, and froth your mouth no more.
+'Tis true there's better boose than brine, but he that drowns must drink it;
+    And oh, my lass, the news is news that men have heard before.
+
+/The King with half the East at heel is marched from lands of morning;
+    Their fighters drink the rivers up, their shafts benight the air.
+And he that stands will die for nought, and home there's no returning./
+    The Spartans on the sea-wet rock sat down and combed their hair.
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+The half-moon westers low, my love,
+    And the wind brings up the rain;
+And wide apart lie we, my love,
+    And seas between the twain.
+
+I know not if it rains, my love,
+    In the land where you do lie;
+And oh, so sound you sleep, my love,
+    You know no more than I.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+The sigh that heaves the grasses
+    Whence thou wilt never rise
+Is of the air that passes
+    And knows not if it sighs.
+
+The diamond tears adorning
+    Thy low mound on the lea,
+Those are the tears of morning,
+    That weeps, but not for thee.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+Now dreary dawns the eastern light,
+    And fall of eve is drear,
+And cold the poor man lies at night,
+    And so goes out the year.
+
+Little is the luck I've had,
+    And oh, 'tis comfort small
+To think that many another lad
+    Has had no luck at all.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX
+
+Wake not for the world-heard thunder
+    Nor the chime that earthquakes toll.
+Star may plot in heaven with planet,
+Lightning rive the rock of granite,
+Tempest tread the oakwood under:
+    Fear not you for flesh nor soul.
+Marching, fighting, victory past,
+Stretch your limbs in peace at last.
+
+Stir not for the soldiers drilling
+    Nor the fever nothing cures:
+Throb of drum and timbal's rattle
+Call but man alive to battle,
+And the fife with death-notes filling
+    Screams for blood but not for yours.
+Times enough you bled your best;
+Sleep on now, and take your rest.
+
+Sleep, my lad; the French are landed,
+    London's burning, Windsor's down;
+Clasp your cloak of earth about you,
+We must man the ditch without you,
+March unled and fight short-handed,
+    Charge to fall and swim to drown.
+Duty, friendship, bravery o'er,
+Sleep away, lad; wake no more.
+
+
+
+
+XXX
+
+SINNER'S RUE
+
+I walked alone and thinking,
+    And faint the nightwind blew
+And stirred on mounds at crossways
+    The flower of sinner's rue.
+
+Where the roads part they bury
+    Him that his own hand slays,
+And so the weed of sorrow
+    Springs at the four cross ways.
+
+By night I plucked it hueless,
+    When morning broke 'twas blue:
+Blue at my breast I fastened
+    The flower of sinner's rue.
+
+It seemed a herb of healing,
+    A balsam and a sign,
+Flower of a heart whose trouble
+    Must have been worse than mine.
+
+Dead clay that did me kindness,
+    I can do none to you,
+But only wear for breastknot
+    The flower of sinner's rue.
+
+
+
+
+XXXI
+
+HELL'S GATE
+
+    Onward led the road again
+Through the sad uncoloured plain
+Under twilight brooding dim,
+And along the utmost rim
+Wall and rampart risen to sight
+Cast a shadow not of night,
+And beyond them seemed to glow
+Bonfires lighted long ago.
+And my dark conductor broke
+Silence at my side and spoke,
+Saying, "You conjecture well:
+Yonder is the gate of hell."
+
+    Ill as yet the eye could see
+The eternal masonry,
+But beneath it on the dark
+To and fro there stirred a spark.
+And again the sombre guide
+Knew my question, and replied:
+"At hell gate the damned in turn
+Pace for sentinel and burn."
+
+    Dully at the leaden sky
+Staring, and with idle eye
+Measuring the listless plain,
+I began to think again.
+Many things I thought of then,
+Battle, and the loves of men,
+Cities entered, oceans crossed,
+Knowledge gained and virtue lost,
+Cureless folly done and said,
+And the lovely way that led
+To the slimepit and the mire
+And the everlasting fire.
+And against a smoulder dun
+And a dawn without a sun
+Did the nearing bastion loom,
+And across the gate of gloom
+Still one saw the sentry go,
+Trim and burning, to and fro,
+One for women to admire
+In his finery of fire.
+Something, as I watched him pace,
+Minded me of time and place,
+Soldiers of another corps
+And a sentry known before.
+
+    Ever darker hell on high
+Reared its strength upon the sky,
+And our football on the track
+Fetched the daunting echo back.
+But the soldier pacing still
+The insuperable sill,
+Nursing his tormented pride,
+Turned his head to neither side,
+Sunk into himself apart
+And the hell-fire of his heart.
+But against our entering in
+From the drawbridge Death and Sin
+Rose to render key and sword
+To their father and their lord.
+And the portress foul to see
+Lifted up her eyes on me
+Smiling, and I made reply:
+"Met again, my lass," said I.
+Then the sentry turned his head,
+Looked, and knew me, and was Ned.
+
+    Once he looked, and halted straight,
+Set his back against the gate,
+Caught his musket to his chin,
+While the hive of hell within
+Sent abroad a seething hum
+As of towns whose king is come
+Leading conquest home from far
+And the captives of his war,
+And the car of triumph waits,
+And they open wide the gates.
+But across the entry barred
+Straddled the revolted guard,
+Weaponed and accoutred well
+From the arsenals of hell;
+And beside him, sick and white,
+Sin to left and Death to right
+Turned a countenance of fear
+On the flaming mutineer.
+Over us the darkness bowed,
+And the anger in the cloud
+Clenched the lightning for the stroke;
+But the traitor musket spoke.
+
+    And the hollowness of hell
+Sounded as its master fell,
+And the mourning echo rolled
+Ruin through his kingdom old.
+Tyranny and terror flown
+Left a pair of friends alone,
+And beneath the nether sky
+All that stirred was he and I.
+
+    Silent, nothing found to say,
+We began the backward way;
+And the ebbing luster died
+From the soldier at my side,
+As in all his spruce attire
+Failed the everlasting fire.
+Midmost of the homeward track
+Once we listened and looked back;
+But the city, dusk and mute,
+Slept, and there was no pursuit.
+
+
+
+
+XXXII
+
+When I would muse in boyhood
+    The wild green woods among,
+And nurse resolves and fancies
+    Because the world was young,
+It was not foes to conquer,
+    Nor sweethearts to be kind,
+But it was friends to die for
+    That I would seek and find.
+
+I sought them far and found them,
+    The sure, the straight, the brave,
+The hearts I lost my own to,
+    The souls I could not save.
+They braced their belts about them,
+    They crossed in ships the sea,
+They sought and found six feet of ground,
+    And there they died for me.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+When the eye of day is shut,
+    And the stars deny their beams,
+And about the forest hut
+    Blows the roaring wood of dreams,
+
+From deep clay, from desert rock,
+    From the sunk sands of the main,
+Come not at my door to knock,
+    Hearts that loved me not again.
+
+Sleep, be still, turn to your rest
+    In the lands where you are laid;
+In far lodgings east and west
+    Lie down on the beds you made.
+
+In gross marl, in blowing dust,
+    In the drowned ooze of the sea,
+Where you would not, lie you must,
+    Lie you must, and not with me.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+THE FIRST OF MAY
+
+The orchards half the way
+    From home to Ludlow fair
+Flowered on the first of May
+    In Mays when I was there;
+And seen from stile or turning
+    The plume of smoke would show
+Where fires were burning
+    That went out long ago.
+
+The plum broke forth in green,
+    The pear stood high and snowed,
+My friends and I between
+    Would take the Ludlow road;
+Dressed to the nines and drinking
+    And light in heart and limb,
+And each chap thinking
+    The fair was held for him.
+
+Between the trees in flower
+    New friends at fairtime tread
+The way where Ludlow tower
+    Stands planted on the dead.
+Our thoughts, a long while after,
+    They think, our words they say;
+Theirs now's the laughter,
+    The fair, the first of May.
+
+Ay, yonder lads are yet
+    The fools that we were then;
+For oh, the sons we get
+    Are still the sons of men.
+The sumless tale of sorrow
+    Is all unrolled in vain:
+May comes to-morrow
+    And Ludlow fair again.
+
+
+
+
+XXXV
+
+When first my way to fair I took
+    Few pence in purse had I,
+And long I used to stand and look
+    At things I could not buy.
+
+Now times are altered:  if I care
+    To buy a thing, I can;
+The pence are here and here's the fair,
+    But where's the lost young man?
+
+--To think that two and two are four
+    And neither five nor three
+The heart of man has long been sore
+    And long 'tis like to be.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVI
+
+REVOLUTION
+
+West and away the wheels of darkness roll,
+    Day's beamy banner up the east is borne,
+Spectres and fears, the nightmare and her foal,
+    Drown in the golden deluge of the morn.
+
+But over sea and continent from sight
+    Safe to the Indies has the earth conveyed
+The vast and moon-eclipsing cone of night,
+    Her towering foolscap of eternal shade.
+
+See, in mid heaven the sun is mounted; hark,
+    The belfries tingle to the noonday chime.
+'Tis silent, and the subterranean dark
+    Has crossed the nadir, and begins to climb.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVII
+
+EPITAPH ON AN ARMY OF MERCENARIES
+
+These, in the day when heaven was falling,
+    The hour when earth's foundations fled,
+Followed their mercenary calling
+    And took their wages and are dead.
+
+Their shoulders held the sky suspended;
+    They stood, and earth's foundations stay;
+What God abandoned, these defended,
+    And saved the sum of things for pay.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVIII
+
+Oh stay at home, my lad, and plough
+    The land and not the sea,
+And leave the soldiers at their drill,
+And all about the idle hill
+    Shepherd your sheep with me.
+
+Oh stay with company and mirth
+    And daylight and the air;
+Too full already is the grave
+Of fellows that were good and brave
+    And died because they were.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIX
+
+When summer's end is nighing
+    And skies at evening cloud,
+I muse on change and fortune
+    And all the feats I vowed
+    When I was young and proud.
+
+The weathercock at sunset
+    Would lose the slanted ray,
+And I would climb the beacon
+    That looked to Wales away
+    And saw the last of day.
+
+From hill and cloud and heaven
+    The hues of evening died;
+Night welled through lane and hollow
+    And hushed the countryside,
+    But I had youth and pride.
+
+And I with earth and nightfall
+    In converse high would stand,
+Late, till the west was ashen
+    And darkness hard at hand,
+    And the eye lost the land.
+
+The year might age, and cloudy
+    The lessening day might close,
+But air of other summers
+    Breathed from beyond the snows,
+    And I had hope of those.
+
+They came and were and are not
+    And come no more anew;
+And all the years and seasons
+    That ever can ensue
+    Must now be worse and few.
+
+So here's an end of roaming
+    On eves when autumn nighs:
+The ear too fondly listens
+    For summer's parting sighs,
+    And then the heart replies.
+
+
+
+
+XL
+
+Tell me not here, it needs not saying,
+    What tune the enchantress plays
+In aftermaths of soft September
+    Or under blanching mays,
+For she and I were long acquainted
+    And I knew all her ways.
+
+On russet floors, by waters idle,
+    The pine lets fall its cone;
+The cuckoo shouts all day at nothing
+    In leafy dells alone;
+And traveler's joy beguiles in autumn
+    Hearts that have lost their own.
+
+On acres of the seeded grasses
+    The changing burnish heaves;
+Or marshalled under moons of harvest
+    Stand still all night the sheaves;
+Or beeches strip in storms for winter
+    And stain the wind with leaves.
+
+Possess, as I possessed a season,
+    The countries I resign,
+Where over elmy plains the highway
+    Would mount the hills and shine,
+And full of shade the pillared forest
+    Would murmur and be mine.
+
+For nature, heartless, witless nature,
+    Will neither care nor know
+What stranger's feet may find the meadow
+    And trespass there and go,
+Nor ask amid the dews of morning
+    If they are mine or no.
+
+
+
+
+XLI
+
+FANCY'S KNELL
+
+When lads were home from labour
+    At Abdon under Clee,
+A man would call his neighbor
+    And both would send for me.
+And where the light in lances
+    Across the mead was laid,
+There to the dances
+    I fetched my flute and played.
+
+Ours were idle pleasures,
+    Yet oh, content we were,
+The young to wind the measures,
+    The old to heed the air;
+And I to lift with playing
+    From tree and tower and steep
+The light delaying,
+    And flute the sun to sleep.
+
+The youth toward his fancy
+    Would turn his brow of tan,
+And Tom would pair with Nancy
+    And Dick step off with Fan;
+The girl would lift her glances
+    To his, and both be mute:
+Well went the dances
+    At evening to the flute.
+
+Wenlock Edge was umbered,
+    And bright was Abdon Burf,
+And warm between them slumbered
+    The smooth green miles of turf;
+Until from grass and clover
+    The upshot beam would fade,
+And England over
+    Advanced the lofty shade.
+
+The lofty shade advances,
+    I fetch my flute and play:
+Come, lads, and learn the dances
+    And praise the tune to-day.
+To-morrow, more's the pity,
+    Away we both must hie,
+To air the ditty,
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Last Poems, by A. E. Housman
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Last Poems, by A. E. Housman
+#3 in our series by A. E. Housman
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+
+
+Title: Last Poems
+
+Author: A. E. Housman
+
+Release Date: January 28, 2007 [EBook #7848]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted in etext05 as 7lspm10.txt on May 22, 2003]
+[Date last updated: April, 2005]
+
+Edition: 11
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LAST POEMS ***
+******This file should be named 7lspm11.txt or ltbor11.zip*******
+
+Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, 7lspm12.txt.
+VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7lspm10a.txt.
+
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+
+Produced by A. P. Saulters
+
+
+
+
+LAST POEMS
+
+By A. E. Housman
+
+
+I publish these poems, few though they are, because it is not likely
+that I shall ever be impelled to write much more.  I can no longer
+expect to be revisited by the continuous excitement under which in
+the early months of 1895 I wrote the greater part of my first book,
+nor indeed could I well sustain it if  it came; and it is best that what
+I have written should be printed while I am here to see it through
+the press and control its spelling and punctuation.  About a quarter
+of this matter belongs to the April of the present year, but most of
+it to dates between 1895 and 1910.
+
+
+September 1922
+
+We'll to the weeds no more,
+The laurels are all cut,
+The bowers are bare of bay
+That once the Muses wore;
+The year draws in the day
+And soon will evening shut:
+The laurels all are cut,
+We'll to the woods no more.
+Oh we'll no more, no more
+To the leafy woods away,
+To the high wild woods of laurel
+And the bowers of bay no more.
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+THE WEST
+
+
+Beyond the moor and the mountain crest
+--Comrade, look not on the west--
+The sun is down and drinks away
+From air and land the lees of day.
+
+The long cloud and the single pine
+Sentinel the ending line,
+And out beyond it, clear and wan,
+Reach the gulfs of evening on.
+
+The son of woman turns his brow
+West from forty countries now,
+And, as the edge of heaven he eyes,
+Thinks eternal thoughts, and sighs.
+
+Oh wide's the world, to rest or roam,
+With change abroad and cheer at home,
+Fights and furloughs, talk and tale,
+Company and beef and ale.
+
+But if I front the evening sky
+Silent on the west look I,
+And my comrade, stride for stride,
+Paces silent at my side,
+
+Comrade, look not on the west:
+'Twill have the heart out of your breast;
+'Twill take your thoughts and sink them far,
+Leagues beyond the sunset bar.
+
+Oh lad, I fear that yon's the sea
+Where they fished for you and me,
+And there, from whence we both were ta'en,
+You and I shall drown again.
+
+Send not on your soul before
+To dive from that beguiling shore,
+And let not yet the swimmer leave
+His clothes upon the sands of eve.
+
+Too fast to yonder strand forlorn
+We journey, to the sunken bourn,
+To flush the fading tinges eyed
+By other lads at eventide.
+
+Wide is the world, to rest or roam,
+And early 'tis for turning home:
+Plant your heel on earth and stand,
+And let's forget our native land.
+
+When you and I are split on air
+Long we shall be strangers there;
+Friends of flesh and bone are best;
+Comrade, look not on the west.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+As I gird on for fighting
+    My sword upon my thigh,
+I think on old ill fortunes
+    Of better men than I.
+
+Think I, the round world over,
+    What golden lads are low
+With hurts not mine to mourn for
+    And shames I shall not know.
+
+What evil luck soever
+    For me remains in store,
+'Tis sure much finer fellows
+    Have fared much worse before.
+
+So here are things to think on
+    That ought to make me brave,
+As I strap on for fighting
+    My sword that will not save.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+Her strong enchantments failing,
+    Her towers of fear in wreck,
+Her limbecks dried of poisons
+    And the knife at her neck,
+
+The Queen of air and darkness
+    Begins to shrill and cry,
+'O young man, O my slayer,
+    To-morrow you shall die.'
+
+O Queen of air and darkness,
+    I think 'tis truth you say,
+And I shall die to-morrow;
+    But you will die to-day.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+ILLIC JACET
+
+
+Oh hard is the bed they have made him,
+    And common the blanket and cheap;
+But there he will lie as they laid him:
+    Where else could you trust him to sleep?
+
+To sleep when the bugle is crying
+    And cravens have heard and are brave,
+When mothers and sweethearts are sighing
+    And lads are in love with the grave.
+
+Oh dark is the chamber and lonely,
+    And lights and companions depart;
+But lief will he lose them and only
+    Behold the desire of his heart.
+
+And low is the roof, but it covers
+    A sleeper content to repose;
+And far from his friends and his lovers
+    He lies with the sweetheart he chose.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+GRENADIER
+
+
+The Queen she sent to look for me,
+    The sergeant he did say,
+'Young man, a soldier will you be
+    For thirteen pence a day?'
+
+For thirteen pence a day did I
+    Take off the things I wore,
+And I have marched to where I lie,
+    And I shall march no more.
+
+My mouth is dry, my shirt is wet,
+    My blood runs all away,
+So now I shall not die in debt
+    For thirteen pence a day.
+
+To-morrow after new young men
+    The sergeant he must see,
+For things will all be over then
+    Between the Queen and me.
+
+And I shall have to bate my price,
+    For in the grave, they say,
+Is neither knowledge nor device
+    Nor thirteen pence a day.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+LANCER
+
+
+I 'listed at home for a lancer,
+    Oh who would not sleep with the brave?
+I 'listed at home for a lancer
+    To ride on a horse to my grave.
+
+And over the seas we were bidden
+    A country to take and to keep;
+And far with the brave I have ridden,
+    And now with the brave I shall sleep.
+
+For round me the men will be lying
+    That learned me the way to behave.
+And showed me my business of dying:
+    Oh who would not sleep with the brave?
+
+They ask and there is not an answer;
+Says I, I will 'list for a lancer,
+    Oh who would not sleep with the brave?
+
+And I with the brave shall be sleeping
+    At ease on my mattress of loam,
+When back from their taking and keeping
+    The squadron is riding home.
+
+The wind with the plumes will be playing,
+    The girls will stand watching them wave,
+And eyeing my comrades and saying
+    Oh who would not sleep with the brave?
+
+They ask and there is not an answer;
+Says you, I will 'list for a lancer,
+    Oh who would not sleep with the brave?
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+In valleys green and still
+    Where lovers wander maying
+They hear from over hill
+    A music playing.
+
+Behind the drum and fife,
+    Past hawthornwood and hollow,
+Through earth and out of life
+    The soldiers follow.
+
+The soldier's is the trade:
+    In any wind or weather
+He steals the heart of maid
+    And man together.
+
+The lover and his lass
+    Beneath the hawthorn lying
+Have heard the soldiers pass,
+    And both are sighing.
+
+And down the distance they
+    With dying note and swelling
+Walk the resounding way
+    To the still dwelling.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+Soldier from the wars returning,
+    Spoiler of the taken town,
+Here is ease that asks not earning;
+    Turn you in and sit you down.
+
+Peace is come and wars are over,
+    Welcome you and welcome all,
+While the charger crops the clover
+    And his bridle hangs in stall.
+
+Now no more of winters biting,
+    Filth in trench from fall to spring,
+Summers full of sweat and fighting
+    For the Kesar or the King.
+
+Rest you, charger, rust you, bridle;
+    Kings and kesars, keep your pay;
+Soldier, sit you down and idle
+    At the inn of night for aye.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+The chestnut casts his flambeaux, and the flowers
+    Stream from the hawthorn on the wind away,
+The doors clap to, the pane is blind with showers.
+    Pass me the can, lad; there's an end of May.
+
+There's one spoilt spring to scant our mortal lot,
+    One season ruined of our little store.
+May will be fine next year as like as not:
+    Oh ay, but then we shall be twenty-four.
+
+We for a certainty are not the first
+    Have sat in taverns while the tempest hurled
+Their hopeful plans to emptiness, and cursed
+    Whatever brute and blackguard made the world.
+
+It is in truth iniquity on high
+    To cheat our sentenced souls of aught they crave,
+And mar the merriment as you and I
+    Fare on our long fool's-errand to the grave.
+
+Iniquity it is; but pass the can.
+    My lad, no pair of kings our mothers bore;
+Our only portion is the estate of man:
+    We want the moon, but we shall get no more.
+
+If here to-day the cloud of thunder lours
+    To-morrow it will hie on far behests;
+The flesh will grieve on other bones than ours
+    Soon, and the soul will mourn in other breasts.
+
+The troubles of our proud and angry dust
+    Are from eternity, and shall not fail.
+Bear them we can, and if we can we must.
+    Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+Could man be drunk for ever
+    With liquor, love, or fights,
+Lief should I rouse at morning
+    And lief lie down of nights.
+
+But men at whiles are sober
+    And think by fits and starts,
+And if they think, they fasten
+    Their hands upon their hearts.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+
+Yonder see the morning blink:
+    The sun is up, and up must I,
+To wash and dress and eat and drink
+And look at things and talk and think
+    And work, and God knows why.
+
+Oh often have I washed and dressed
+    And what's to show for all my pain?
+Let me lie abed and rest:
+Ten thousand times I've done my best
+    And all's to do again.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+    The laws of God, the laws of man,
+He may keep that will and can;
+Now I:  let God and man decree
+Laws for themselves and not for me;
+And if my ways are not as theirs
+Let them mind their own affairs.
+Their deeds I judge and much condemn,
+Yet when did I make laws for them?
+Please yourselves, say I, and they
+Need only look the other way.
+But no, they will not; they must still
+Wrest their neighbour to their will,
+And make me dance as they desire
+With jail and gallows and hell-fire.
+And how am I to face the odds
+Of man's bedevilment and God's?
+I, a stranger and afraid
+In a world I never made.
+They will be master, right or wrong;
+Though both are foolish, both are strong,
+And since, my soul, we cannot fly
+To Saturn or Mercury,
+Keep we must, if keep we can,
+These foreign laws of God and man.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+THE DESERTER
+
+
+"What sound awakened me, I wonder,
+    For now 'tis dumb."
+"Wheels on the road most like, or thunder:
+    Lie down; 'twas not the drum.:
+
+"Toil at sea and two in haven
+    And trouble far:
+Fly, crow, away, and follow, raven,
+    And all that croaks for war."
+
+"Hark, I heard the bugle crying,
+    And where am I?
+My friends are up and dressed and dying,
+    And I will dress and die."
+
+"Oh love is rare and trouble plenty
+    And carrion cheap,
+And daylight dear at four-and-twenty:
+    Lie down again and sleep."
+
+"Reach me my belt and leave your prattle:
+    Your hour is gone;
+But my day is the day of battle,
+    And that comes dawning on.
+
+"They mow the field of man in season:
+    Farewell, my fair,
+And, call it truth or call it treason,
+    Farewell the vows that were."
+
+"Ay, false heart, forsake me lightly:
+    'Tis like the brave.
+They find no bed to joy in rightly
+    Before they find the grave.
+
+"Their love is for their own undoing.
+    And east and west
+They scour about the world a-wooing
+    The bullet in their breast.
+
+"Sail away the ocean over,
+    Oh sail away,
+And lie there with your leaden lover
+    For ever and a day."
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+THE CULPRIT
+
+
+The night my father got me
+    His mind was not on me;
+He did not plague his fancy
+    To muse if I should be
+    The son you see.
+
+The day my mother bore me
+    She was a fool and glad,
+For all the pain I cost her,
+    That she had borne the lad
+    That borne she had.
+
+My mother and my father
+    Out of the light they lie;
+The warrant would not find them,
+    And here 'tis only I
+    Shall hang so high.
+
+Oh let not man remember
+    The soul that God forgot,
+But fetch the county kerchief
+    And noose me in the knot,
+    And I will rot.
+
+For so the game is ended
+    That should not have begun.
+My father and my mother
+    They had a likely son,
+    And I have none.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+EIGHT O'CLOCK
+
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+SPRING MORNING
+
+
+Star and coronal and bell
+    April underfoot renews,
+And the hope of man as well
+    Flowers among the morning dews.
+
+Now the old come out to look,
+    Winter past and winter's pains.
+How the sky in pool and brook
+    Glitters on the grassy plains.
+
+Easily the gentle air
+    Wafts the turning season on;
+Things to comfort them are there,
+    Though 'tis true the best are gone.
+
+Now the scorned unlucky lad
+    Rousing from his pillow gnawn
+Mans his heart and deep and glad
+    Drinks the valiant air of dawn.
+
+Half the night he longed to die,
+    Now are sown on hill and plain
+Pleasures worth his while to try
+    Ere he longs to die again.
+
+Blue the sky from east to west
+    Arches, and the world is wide,
+Though the girl he loves the best
+    Rouses from another's side.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+ASTRONOMY
+
+
+The Wain upon the northern steep
+    Descends and lifts away.
+Oh I will sit me down and weep
+    For bones in Africa.
+
+For pay and medals, name and rank,
+    Things that he has not found,
+He hove the Cross to heaven and sank
+    The pole-star underground.
+
+And now he does not even see
+    Signs of the nadir roll
+At night over the ground where he
+    Is buried with the pole.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+
+The rain, it streams on stone and hillock,
+    The boot clings to the clay.
+Since all is done that's due and right
+Let's home; and now, my lad, good-night,
+    For I must turn away.
+
+Good-night, my lad, for nought's eternal;
+    No league of ours, for sure.
+Tomorrow I shall miss you less,
+And ache of heart and heaviness
+    Are things that time should cure.
+
+Over the hill the highway marches
+    And what's beyond is wide:
+Oh soon enough will pine to nought
+Remembrance and the faithful thought
+    That sits the grave beside.
+
+The skies, they are not always raining
+    Nor grey the twelvemonth through;
+And I shall meet good days and mirth,
+And range the lovely lands of earth
+    With friends no worse than you.
+
+But oh, my man, the house is fallen
+    That none can build again;
+My man, how full of joy and woe
+Your mother bore you years ago
+    To-night to lie in the rain.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+
+In midnights of November,
+    When Dead Man's Fair is nigh,
+And danger in the valley,
+    And anger in the sky,
+
+Around the huddling homesteads
+    The leafless timber roars,
+And the dead call the dying
+    And finger at the doors.
+
+Oh, yonder faltering fingers
+    Are hands I used to hold;
+Their false companion drowses
+    And leaves them in the cold.
+
+Oh, to the bed of ocean,
+    To Africk and to Ind,
+I will arise and follow
+    Along the rainy wind.
+
+The night goes out and under
+    With all its train forlorn;
+Hues in the east assemble
+    And cocks crow up the morn.
+
+The living are the living
+    And dead the dead will stay,
+And I will sort with comrades
+    That face the beam of day.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+
+The night is freezing fast,
+    To-morrow comes December;
+          And winterfalls of old
+Are with me from the past;
+    And chiefly I remember
+          How Dick would hate the cold.
+
+Fall, winter, fall; for he,
+    Prompt hand and headpiece clever,
+          Has woven a winter robe,
+And made of earth and sea
+    His overcoat for ever,
+          And wears the turning globe.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+
+The fairies break their dances
+    And leave the printed lawn,
+And up from India glances
+    The silver sail of dawn.
+
+The candles burn their sockets,
+    The blinds let through the day,
+The young man feels his pockets
+    And wonders what's to pay.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+
+The sloe was lost in flower,
+    The April elm was dim;
+That was the lover's hour,
+    The hour for lies and him.
+
+If thorns are all the bower,
+    If north winds freeze the fir,
+Why, 'tis another's hour,
+    The hour for truth and her.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+
+In the morning, in the morning,
+    In the happy field of hay,
+Oh they looked at one another
+    By the light of day.
+
+In the blue and silver morning
+    On the haycock as they lay,
+Oh they looked at one another
+    And they looked away.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+EPITHALAMIUM
+
+
+    He is here, Urania's son,
+Hymen come from Helicon;
+God that glads the lover's heart,
+He is here to join and part.
+So the groomsman quits your side
+And the bridegroom seeks the bride:
+Friend and comrade yield you o'er
+To her that hardly loves you more.
+
+    Now the sun his skyward beam
+Has tilted from the Ocean stream.
+Light the Indies, laggard sun:
+Happy bridegroom, day is done,
+And the star from Ota's steep
+Calls to bed but not to sleep.
+
+    Happy bridegroom, Hesper brings
+All desired and timely things.
+All whom morning sends to roam,
+Hesper loves to lead them home.
+Home return who him behold,
+Child to mother, sheep to fold,
+Bird to nest from wandering wide:
+Happy bridegroom, seek your bride.
+
+    Pour it out, the golden cup
+Given and guarded, brimming up,
+Safe through jostling markets borne
+And the thicket of the thorn;
+Folly spurned and danger past,
+Pour it to the god at last.
+
+    Now, to smother noise and light,
+Is stolen abroad the wildering night,
+And the blotting shades confuse
+Path and meadow full of dews;
+And the high heavens, that all control,
+Turn in silence round the pole.
+Catch the starry beams they shed
+Prospering the marriage bed,
+And breed the land that reared your prime
+Sons to stay the rot of time.
+All is quiet, no alarms;
+Nothing fear of nightly harms.
+Safe you sleep on guarded ground,
+And in silent circle round
+The thoughts of friends keep watch and ward,
+Harnessed angels, hand on sword.
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+THE ORACLES
+
+
+'Tis mute, the word they went to hear on high Dodona mountain
+    When winds were in the oakenshaws and all the cauldrons tolled,
+And mute's the midland navel-stone beside the singing fountain,
+    And echoes list to silence now where gods told lies of old.
+
+I took my question to the shrine that has not ceased from speaking,
+    The heart within, that tells the truth and tells it twice as plain;
+And from the cave of oracles I heard the priestess shrieking
+    That she and I should surely die and never live again.
+
+Oh priestess, what you cry is clear, and sound good sense I think it;
+    But let the screaming echoes rest, and froth your mouth no more.
+'Tis true there's better boose than brine, but he that drowns must drink it;
+    And oh, my lass, the news is news that men have heard before.
+
+The King with half the East at heel is marched from lands of morning;
+    Their fighters drink the rivers up, their shafts benight the air.
+And he that stands will die for nought, and home there's no returning.
+    The Spartans on the sea-wet rock sat down and combed their hair.
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+
+The half-moon westers low, my love,
+    And the wind brings up the rain;
+And wide apart lie we, my love,
+    And seas between the twain.
+
+I know not if it rains, my love,
+    In the land where you do lie;
+And oh, so sound you sleep, my love,
+    You know no more than I.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+
+The sigh that heaves the grasses
+    Whence thou wilt never rise
+Is of the air that passes
+    And knows not if it sighs.
+
+The diamond tears adorning
+    Thy low mound on the lea,
+Those are the tears of morning,
+    That weeps, but not for thee.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+
+Now dreary dawns the eastern light,
+    And fall of eve is drear,
+And cold the poor man lies at night,
+    And so goes out the year.
+
+Little is the luck I've had,
+    And oh, 'tis comfort small
+To think that many another lad
+    Has had no luck at all.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX
+
+
+Wake not for the world-heard thunder
+    Nor the chime that earthquakes toll.
+Star may plot in heaven with planet,
+Lightning rive the rock of granite,
+Tempest tread the oakwood under:
+    Fear not you for flesh nor soul.
+Marching, fighting, victory past,
+Stretch your limbs in peace at last.
+
+Stir not for the soldiers drilling
+    Nor the fever nothing cures:
+Throb of drum and timbal's rattle
+Call but man alive to battle,
+And the fife with death-notes filling
+    Screams for blood but not for yours.
+Times enough you bled your best;
+Sleep on now, and take your rest.
+
+Sleep, my lad; the French are landed,
+    London's burning, Windsor's down;
+Clasp your cloak of earth about you,
+We must man the ditch without you,
+March unled and fight short-handed,
+    Charge to fall and swim to drown.
+Duty, friendship, bravery o'er,
+Sleep away, lad; wake no more.
+
+
+
+
+XXX
+
+SINNER'S RUE
+
+
+I walked alone and thinking,
+    And faint the nightwind blew
+And stirred on mounds at crossways
+    The flower of sinner's rue.
+
+Where the roads part they bury
+    Him that his own hand slays,
+And so the weed of sorrow
+    Springs at the four cross ways.
+
+By night I plucked it hueless,
+    When morning broke 'twas blue:
+Blue at my breast I fastened
+    The flower of sinner's rue.
+
+It seemed a herb of healing,
+    A balsam and a sign,
+Flower of a heart whose trouble
+    Must have been worse than mine.
+
+Dead clay that did me kindness,
+    I can do none to you,
+But only wear for breastknot
+    The flower of sinner's rue.
+
+
+
+
+XXXI
+
+HELL'S GATE
+
+
+    Onward led the road again
+Through the sad uncoloured plain
+Under twilight brooding dim,
+And along the utmost rim
+Wall and rampart risen to sight
+Cast a shadow not of night,
+And beyond them seemed to glow
+Bonfires lighted long ago.
+And my dark conductor broke
+Silence at my side and spoke,
+Saying, "You conjecture well:
+Yonder is the gate of hell."
+
+    Ill as yet the eye could see
+The eternal masonry,
+But beneath it on the dark
+To and fro there stirred a spark.
+And again the sombre guide
+Knew my question, and replied:
+"At hell gate the damned in turn
+Pace for sentinel and burn."
+
+    Dully at the leaden sky
+Staring, and with idle eye
+Measuring the listless plain,
+I began to think again.
+Many things I thought of then,
+Battle, and the loves of men,
+Cities entered, oceans crossed,
+Knowledge gained and virtue lost,
+Cureless folly done and said,
+And the lovely way that led
+To the slimepit and the mire
+And the everlasting fire.
+And against a smoulder dun
+And a dawn without a sun
+Did the nearing bastion loom,
+And across the gate of gloom
+Still one saw the sentry go,
+Trim and burning, to and fro,
+One for women to admire
+In his finery of fire.
+Something, as I watched him pace,
+Minded me of time and place,
+Soldiers of another corps
+And a sentry known before.
+
+    Ever darker hell on high
+Reared its strength upon the sky,
+And our football on the track
+Fetched the daunting echo back.
+But the soldier pacing still
+The insuperable sill,
+Nursing his tormented pride,
+Turned his head to neither side,
+Sunk into himself apart
+And the hell-fire of his heart.
+But against our entering in
+From the drawbridge Death and Sin
+Rose to render key and sword
+To their father and their lord.
+And the portress foul to see
+Lifted up her eyes on me
+Smiling, and I made reply:
+"Met again, my lass," said I.
+Then the sentry turned his head,
+Looked, and knew me, and was Ned.
+
+    Once he looked, and halted straight,
+Set his back against the gate,
+Caught his musket to his chin,
+While the hive of hell within
+Sent abroad a seething hum
+As of towns whose king is come
+Leading conquest home from far
+And the captives of his war,
+And the car of triumph waits,
+And they open wide the gates.
+But across the entry barred
+Straddled the revolted guard,
+Weaponed and accoutred well
+From the arsenals of hell;
+And beside him, sick and white,
+Sin to left and Death to right
+Turned a countenance of fear
+On the flaming mutineer.
+Over us the darkness bowed,
+And the anger in the cloud
+Clenched the lightning for the stroke;
+But the traitor musket spoke.
+
+    And the hollowness of hell
+Sounded as its master fell,
+And the mourning echo rolled
+Ruin through his kingdom old.
+Tyranny and terror flown
+Left a pair of friends alone,
+And beneath the nether sky
+All that stirred was he and I.
+
+    Silent, nothing found to say,
+We began the backward way;
+And the ebbing luster died
+From the soldier at my side,
+As in all his spruce attire
+Failed the everlasting fire.
+Midmost of the homeward track
+Once we listened and looked back;
+But the city, dusk and mute,
+Slept, and there was no pursuit.
+
+
+
+
+XXXII
+
+
+When I would muse in boyhood
+    The wild green woods among,
+And nurse resolves and fancies
+    Because the world was young,
+It was not foes to conquer,
+    Nor sweethearts to be kind,
+But it was friends to die for
+    That I would seek and find.
+
+I sought them far and found them,
+    The sure, the straight, the brave,
+The hearts I lost my own to,
+    The souls I could not save.
+They braced their belts about them,
+    They crossed in ships the sea,
+They sought and found six feet of ground,
+    And there they died for me.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+
+When the eye of day is shut,
+    And the stars deny their beams,
+And about the forest hut
+    Blows the roaring wood of dreams,
+
+From deep clay, from desert rock,
+    From the sunk sands of the main,
+Come not at my door to knock,
+    Hearts that loved me not again.
+
+Sleep, be still, turn to your rest
+    In the lands where you are laid;
+In far lodgings east and west
+    Lie down on the beds you made.
+
+In gross marl, in blowing dust,
+    In the drowned ooze of the sea,
+Where you would not, lie you must,
+    Lie you must, and not with me.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+THE FIRST OF MAY
+
+
+The orchards half the way
+    From home to Ludlow fair
+Flowered on the first of May
+    In Mays when I was there;
+And seen from stile or turning
+    The plume of smoke would show
+Where fires were burning
+    That went out long ago.
+
+The plum broke forth in green,
+    The pear stood high and snowed,
+My friends and I between
+    Would take the Ludlow road;
+Dressed to the nines and drinking
+    And light in heart and limb,
+And each chap thinking
+    The fair was held for him.
+
+Between the trees in flower
+    New friends at fairtime tread
+The way where Ludlow tower
+    Stands planted on the dead.
+Our thoughts, a long while after,
+    They think, our words they say;
+Theirs now's the laughter,
+    The fair, the first of May.
+
+Ay, yonder lads are yet
+    The fools that we were then;
+For oh, the sons we get
+    Are still the sons of men.
+The sumless tale of sorrow
+    Is all unrolled in vain:
+May comes to-morrow
+    And Ludlow fair again.
+
+
+
+
+XXXV
+
+
+When first my way to fair I took
+    Few pence in purse had I,
+And long I used to stand and look
+    At things I could not buy.
+
+Now times are altered:  if I care
+    To buy a thing, I can;
+The pence are here and here's the fair,
+    But where's the lost young man?
+
+--To think that two and two are four
+    And neither five nor three
+The heart of man has long been sore
+    And long 'tis like to be.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVI
+
+REVOLUTION
+
+
+West and away the wheels of darkness roll,
+    Day's beamy banner up the east is borne,
+Spectres and fears, the nightmare and her foal,
+    Drown in the golden deluge of the morn.
+
+But over sea and continent from sight
+    Safe to the Indies has the earth conveyed
+The vast and moon-eclipsing cone of night,
+    Her towering foolscap of eternal shade.
+
+See, in mid heaven the sun is mounted; hark,
+    The belfries tingle to the noonday chime.
+'Tis silent, and the subterranean dark
+    Has crossed the nadir, and begins to climb.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVII
+
+EPITAPH ON AN ARMY OF MERCENARIES
+
+
+These, in the day when heaven was falling,
+    The hour when earth's foundations fled,
+Followed their mercenary calling
+    And took their wages and are dead.
+
+Their shoulders held the sky suspended;
+    They stood, and earth's foundations stay;
+What God abandoned, these defended,
+    And saved the sum of things for pay.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVIII
+
+
+Oh stay at home, my lad, and plough
+    The land and not the sea,
+And leave the soldiers at their drill,
+And all about the idle hill
+    Shepherd your sheep with me.
+
+Oh stay with company and mirth
+    And daylight and the air;
+Too full already is the grave
+Of fellows that were good and brave
+    And died because they were.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIX
+
+
+When summer's end is nighing
+    And skies at evening cloud,
+I muse on change and fortune
+    And all the feats I vowed
+    When I was young and proud.
+
+The weathercock at sunset
+    Would lose the slanted ray,
+And I would climb the beacon
+    That looked to Wales away
+    And saw the last of day.
+
+From hill and cloud and heaven
+    The hues of evening died;
+Night welled through lane and hollow
+    And hushed the countryside,
+    But I had youth and pride.
+
+And I with earth and nightfall
+    In converse high would stand,
+Late, till the west was ashen
+    And darkness hard at hand,
+    And the eye lost the land.
+
+The year might age, and cloudy
+    The lessening day might close,
+But air of other summers
+    Breathed from beyond the snows,
+    And I had hope of those.
+
+They came and were and are not
+    And come no more anew;
+And all the years and seasons
+    That ever can ensue
+    Must now be worse and few.
+
+So here's an end of roaming
+    On eves when autumn nighs:
+The ear too fondly listens
+    For summer's parting sighs,
+    And then the heart replies.
+
+
+
+
+XL
+
+
+Tell me not here, it needs not saying,
+    What tune the enchantress plays
+In aftermaths of soft September
+    Or under blanching mays,
+For she and I were long acquainted
+    And I knew all her ways.
+
+On russet floors, by waters idle,
+    The pine lets fall its cone;
+The cuckoo shouts all day at nothing
+    In leafy dells alone;
+And traveler's joy beguiles in autumn
+    Hearts that have lost their own.
+
+On acres of the seeded grasses
+    The changing burnish heaves;
+Or marshalled under moons of harvest
+    Stand still all night the sheaves;
+Or beeches strip in storms for winter
+    And stain the wind with leaves.
+
+Possess, as I possessed a season,
+    The countries I resign,
+Where over elmy plains the highway
+    Would mount the hills and shine,
+And full of shade the pillared forest
+    Would murmur and be mine.
+
+For nature, heartless, witless nature,
+    Will neither care nor know
+What stranger's feet may find the meadow
+    And trespass there and go,
+Nor ask amid the dews of morning
+    If they are mine or no.
+
+
+
+
+XLI
+
+FANCY'S KNELL
+
+
+When lads were home from labour
+    At Abdon under Clee,
+A man would call his neighbor
+    And both would send for me.
+And where the light in lances
+    Across the mead was laid,
+There to the dances
+    I fetched my flute and played.
+
+Ours were idle pleasures,
+    Yet oh, content we were,
+The young to wind the measures,
+    The old to heed the air;
+And I to lift with playing
+    From tree and tower and steep
+The light delaying,
+    And flute the sun to sleep.
+
+The youth toward his fancy
+    Would turn his brow of tan,
+And Tom would pair with Nancy
+    And Dick step off with Fan;
+The girl would lift her glances
+    To his, and both be mute:
+Well went the dances
+    At evening to the flute.
+
+Wenlock Edge was umbered,
+    And bright was Abdon Burf,
+And warm between them slumbered
+    The smooth green miles of turf;
+Until from grass and clover
+    The upshot beam would fade,
+And England over
+    Advanced the lofty shade.
+
+The lofty shade advances,
+    I fetch my flute and play:
+Come, lads, and learn the dances
+    And praise the tune to-day.
+To-morrow, more's the pity,
+    Away we both must hie,
+To air the ditty,
+    And to earth I.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Last Poems, by A. E. Housman
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Last Poems, by A. E. Housman
+#3 in our series by A. E. Housman
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+
+
+Title: Last Poems
+
+Author: A. E. Housman
+
+Release Date: January 28, 2007 [EBook #7848]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted in etext05 as 8lspm10.txt on May 22, 2003]
+[Date last updated: April, 2005]
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+Edition: 11
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-Latin-1
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LAST POEMS ***
+
+******This file should be named 8lspm11.txt or 8lspm11.zip*******
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+Produced by A. P. Saulters
+
+
+
+
+LAST POEMS
+
+By A. E. Housman
+
+
+I publish these poems, few though they are, because it is not likely
+that I shall ever be impelled to write much more.  I can no longer
+expect to be revisited by the continuous excitement under which in
+the early months of 1895 I wrote the greater part of my first book,
+nor indeed could I well sustain it if  it came; and it is best that what
+I have written should be printed while I am here to see it through
+the press and control its spelling and punctuation.  About a quarter
+of this matter belongs to the April of the present year, but most of
+it to dates between 1895 and 1910.
+
+
+September 1922
+
+We’ll to the weeds no more,
+The laurels are all cut,
+The bowers are bare of bay
+That once the Muses wore;
+The year draws in the day
+And soon will evening shut:
+The laurels all are cut,
+We’ll to the woods no more.
+Oh we’ll no more, no more
+To the leafy woods away,
+To the high wild woods of laurel
+And the bowers of bay no more.
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+THE WEST
+
+
+Beyond the moor and the mountain crest
+--Comrade, look not on the west--
+The sun is down and drinks away
+From air and land the lees of day.
+
+The long cloud and the single pine
+Sentinel the ending line,
+And out beyond it, clear and wan,
+Reach the gulfs of evening on.
+
+The son of woman turns his brow
+West from forty countries now,
+And, as the edge of heaven he eyes,
+Thinks eternal thoughts, and sighs.
+
+Oh wide’s the world, to rest or roam,
+With change abroad and cheer at home,
+Fights and furloughs, talk and tale,
+Company and beef and ale.
+
+But if I front the evening sky
+Silent on the west look I,
+And my comrade, stride for stride,
+Paces silent at my side,
+
+Comrade, look not on the west:
+‘Twill have the heart out of your breast;
+‘Twill take your thoughts and sink them far,
+Leagues beyond the sunset bar.
+
+Oh lad, I fear that yon’s the sea
+Where they fished for you and me,
+And there, from whence we both were ta’en,
+You and I shall drown again.
+
+Send not on your soul before
+To dive from that beguiling shore,
+And let not yet the swimmer leave
+His clothes upon the sands of eve.
+
+Too fast to yonder strand forlorn
+We journey, to the sunken bourn,
+To flush the fading tinges eyed
+By other lads at eventide.
+
+Wide is the world, to rest or roam,
+And early ‘tis for turning home:
+Plant your heel on earth and stand,
+And let’s forget our native land.
+
+When you and I are split on air
+Long we shall be strangers there;
+Friends of flesh and bone are best;
+Comrade, look not on the west.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+As I gird on for fighting
+    My sword upon my thigh,
+I think on old ill fortunes
+    Of better men than I.
+
+Think I, the round world over,
+    What golden lads are low
+With hurts not mine to mourn for
+    And shames I shall not know.
+
+What evil luck soever
+    For me remains in store,
+‘Tis sure much finer fellows
+    Have fared much worse before.
+
+So here are things to think on
+    That ought to make me brave,
+As I strap on for fighting
+    My sword that will not save.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+Her strong enchantments failing,
+    Her towers of fear in wreck,
+Her limbecks dried of poisons
+    And the knife at her neck,
+
+The Queen of air and darkness
+    Begins to shrill and cry,
+‘O young man, O my slayer,
+    To-morrow you shall die.’
+
+O Queen of air and darkness,
+    I think ‘tis truth you say,
+And I shall die to-morrow;
+    But you will die to-day.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+ILLIC JACET
+
+
+Oh hard is the bed they have made him,
+    And common the blanket and cheap;
+But there he will lie as they laid him:
+    Where else could you trust him to sleep?
+
+To sleep when the bugle is crying
+    And cravens have heard and are brave,
+When mothers and sweethearts are sighing
+    And lads are in love with the grave.
+
+Oh dark is the chamber and lonely,
+    And lights and companions depart;
+But lief will he lose them and only
+    Behold the desire of his heart.
+
+And low is the roof, but it covers
+    A sleeper content to repose;
+And far from his friends and his lovers
+    He lies with the sweetheart he chose.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+GRENADIER
+
+
+The Queen she sent to look for me,
+    The sergeant he did say,
+‘Young man, a soldier will you be
+    For thirteen pence a day?’
+
+For thirteen pence a day did I
+    Take off the things I wore,
+And I have marched to where I lie,
+    And I shall march no more.
+
+My mouth is dry, my shirt is wet,
+    My blood runs all away,
+So now I shall not die in debt
+    For thirteen pence a day.
+
+To-morrow after new young men
+    The sergeant he must see,
+For things will all be over then
+    Between the Queen and me.
+
+And I shall have to bate my price,
+    For in the grave, they say,
+Is neither knowledge nor device
+    Nor thirteen pence a day.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+LANCER
+
+
+I ‘listed at home for a lancer,
+    Oh who would not sleep with the brave?
+I ‘listed at home for a lancer
+    To ride on a horse to my grave.
+
+And over the seas we were bidden
+    A country to take and to keep;
+And far with the brave I have ridden,
+    And now with the brave I shall sleep.
+
+For round me the men will be lying
+    That learned me the way to behave.
+And showed me my business of dying:
+    Oh who would not sleep with the brave?
+
+They ask and there is not an answer;
+Says I, I will ‘list for a lancer,
+    Oh who would not sleep with the brave?
+
+And I with the brave shall be sleeping
+    At ease on my mattress of loam,
+When back from their taking and keeping
+    The squadron is riding home.
+
+The wind with the plumes will be playing,
+    The girls will stand watching them wave,
+And eyeing my comrades and saying
+    Oh who would not sleep with the brave?
+
+They ask and there is not an answer;
+Says you, I will ‘list for a lancer,
+    Oh who would not sleep with the brave?
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+In valleys green and still
+    Where lovers wander maying
+They hear from over hill
+    A music playing.
+
+Behind the drum and fife,
+    Past hawthornwood and hollow,
+Through earth and out of life
+    The soldiers follow.
+
+The soldier’s is the trade:
+    In any wind or weather
+He steals the heart of maid
+    And man together.
+
+The lover and his lass
+    Beneath the hawthorn lying
+Have heard the soldiers pass,
+    And both are sighing.
+
+And down the distance they
+    With dying note and swelling
+Walk the resounding way
+    To the still dwelling.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+Soldier from the wars returning,
+    Spoiler of the taken town,
+Here is ease that asks not earning;
+    Turn you in and sit you down.
+
+Peace is come and wars are over,
+    Welcome you and welcome all,
+While the charger crops the clover
+    And his bridle hangs in stall.
+
+Now no more of winters biting,
+    Filth in trench from fall to spring,
+Summers full of sweat and fighting
+    For the Kesar or the King.
+
+Rest you, charger, rust you, bridle;
+    Kings and kesars, keep your pay;
+Soldier, sit you down and idle
+    At the inn of night for aye.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+The chestnut casts his flambeaux, and the flowers
+    Stream from the hawthorn on the wind away,
+The doors clap to, the pane is blind with showers.
+    Pass me the can, lad; there’s an end of May.
+
+There’s one spoilt spring to scant our mortal lot,
+    One season ruined of our little store.
+May will be fine next year as like as not:
+    Oh ay, but then we shall be twenty-four.
+
+We for a certainty are not the first
+    Have sat in taverns while the tempest hurled
+Their hopeful plans to emptiness, and cursed
+    Whatever brute and blackguard made the world.
+
+It is in truth iniquity on high
+    To cheat our sentenced souls of aught they crave,
+And mar the merriment as you and I
+    Fare on our long fool’s-errand to the grave.
+
+Iniquity it is; but pass the can.
+    My lad, no pair of kings our mothers bore;
+Our only portion is the estate of man:
+    We want the moon, but we shall get no more.
+
+If here to-day the cloud of thunder lours
+    To-morrow it will hie on far behests;
+The flesh will grieve on other bones than ours
+    Soon, and the soul will mourn in other breasts.
+
+The troubles of our proud and angry dust
+    Are from eternity, and shall not fail.
+Bear them we can, and if we can we must.
+    Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+Could man be drunk for ever
+    With liquor, love, or fights,
+Lief should I rouse at morning
+    And lief lie down of nights.
+
+But men at whiles are sober
+    And think by fits and starts,
+And if they think, they fasten
+    Their hands upon their hearts.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+
+Yonder see the morning blink:
+    The sun is up, and up must I,
+To wash and dress and eat and drink
+And look at things and talk and think
+    And work, and God knows why.
+
+Oh often have I washed and dressed
+    And what’s to show for all my pain?
+Let me lie abed and rest:
+Ten thousand times I’ve done my best
+    And all’s to do again.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+    The laws of God, the laws of man,
+He may keep that will and can;
+Now I:  let God and man decree
+Laws for themselves and not for me;
+And if my ways are not as theirs
+Let them mind their own affairs.
+Their deeds I judge and much condemn,
+Yet when did I make laws for them?
+Please yourselves, say I, and they
+Need only look the other way.
+But no, they will not; they must still
+Wrest their neighbour to their will,
+And make me dance as they desire
+With jail and gallows and hell-fire.
+And how am I to face the odds
+Of man’s bedevilment and God’s?
+I, a stranger and afraid
+In a world I never made.
+They will be master, right or wrong;
+Though both are foolish, both are strong,
+And since, my soul, we cannot fly
+To Saturn or Mercury,
+Keep we must, if keep we can,
+These foreign laws of God and man.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+THE DESERTER
+
+
+"What sound awakened me, I wonder,
+    For now ‘tis dumb."
+"Wheels on the road most like, or thunder:
+    Lie down; ‘twas not the drum.:
+
+"Toil at sea and two in haven
+    And trouble far:
+Fly, crow, away, and follow, raven,
+    And all that croaks for war."
+
+"Hark, I heard the bugle crying,
+    And where am I?
+My friends are up and dressed and dying,
+    And I will dress and die."
+
+"Oh love is rare and trouble plenty
+    And carrion cheap,
+And daylight dear at four-and-twenty:
+    Lie down again and sleep."
+
+"Reach me my belt and leave your prattle:
+    Your hour is gone;
+But my day is the day of battle,
+    And that comes dawning on.
+
+"They mow the field of man in season:
+    Farewell, my fair,
+And, call it truth or call it treason,
+    Farewell the vows that were."
+
+"Ay, false heart, forsake me lightly:
+    ‘Tis like the brave.
+They find no bed to joy in rightly
+    Before they find the grave.
+
+"Their love is for their own undoing.
+    And east and west
+They scour about the world a-wooing
+    The bullet in their breast.
+
+"Sail away the ocean over,
+    Oh sail away,
+And lie there with your leaden lover
+    For ever and a day."
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+THE CULPRIT
+
+
+The night my father got me
+    His mind was not on me;
+He did not plague his fancy
+    To muse if I should be
+    The son you see.
+
+The day my mother bore me
+    She was a fool and glad,
+For all the pain I cost her,
+    That she had borne the lad
+    That borne she had.
+
+My mother and my father
+    Out of the light they lie;
+The warrant would not find them,
+    And here ‘tis only I
+    Shall hang so high.
+
+Oh let not man remember
+    The soul that God forgot,
+But fetch the county kerchief
+    And noose me in the knot,
+    And I will rot.
+
+For so the game is ended
+    That should not have begun.
+My father and my mother
+    They had a likely son,
+    And I have none.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+EIGHT O’CLOCK
+
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+SPRING MORNING
+
+
+Star and coronal and bell
+    April underfoot renews,
+And the hope of man as well
+    Flowers among the morning dews.
+
+Now the old come out to look,
+    Winter past and winter’s pains.
+How the sky in pool and brook
+    Glitters on the grassy plains.
+
+Easily the gentle air
+    Wafts the turning season on;
+Things to comfort them are there,
+    Though ‘tis true the best are gone.
+
+Now the scorned unlucky lad
+    Rousing from his pillow gnawn
+Mans his heart and deep and glad
+    Drinks the valiant air of dawn.
+
+Half the night he longed to die,
+    Now are sown on hill and plain
+Pleasures worth his while to try
+    Ere he longs to die again.
+
+Blue the sky from east to west
+    Arches, and the world is wide,
+Though the girl he loves the best
+    Rouses from another’s side.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+ASTRONOMY
+
+
+The Wain upon the northern steep
+    Descends and lifts away.
+Oh I will sit me down and weep
+    For bones in Africa.
+
+For pay and medals, name and rank,
+    Things that he has not found,
+He hove the Cross to heaven and sank
+    The pole-star underground.
+
+And now he does not even see
+    Signs of the nadir roll
+At night over the ground where he
+    Is buried with the pole.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+
+The rain, it streams on stone and hillock,
+    The boot clings to the clay.
+Since all is done that’s due and right
+Let’s home; and now, my lad, good-night,
+    For I must turn away.
+
+Good-night, my lad, for nought’s eternal;
+    No league of ours, for sure.
+Tomorrow I shall miss you less,
+And ache of heart and heaviness
+    Are things that time should cure.
+
+Over the hill the highway marches
+    And what’s beyond is wide:
+Oh soon enough will pine to nought
+Remembrance and the faithful thought
+    That sits the grave beside.
+
+The skies, they are not always raining
+    Nor grey the twelvemonth through;
+And I shall meet good days and mirth,
+And range the lovely lands of earth
+    With friends no worse than you.
+
+But oh, my man, the house is fallen
+    That none can build again;
+My man, how full of joy and woe
+Your mother bore you years ago
+    To-night to lie in the rain.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+
+In midnights of November,
+    When Dead Man’s Fair is nigh,
+And danger in the valley,
+    And anger in the sky,
+
+Around the huddling homesteads
+    The leafless timber roars,
+And the dead call the dying
+    And finger at the doors.
+
+Oh, yonder faltering fingers
+    Are hands I used to hold;
+Their false companion drowses
+    And leaves them in the cold.
+
+Oh, to the bed of ocean,
+    To Africk and to Ind,
+I will arise and follow
+    Along the rainy wind.
+
+The night goes out and under
+    With all its train forlorn;
+Hues in the east assemble
+    And cocks crow up the morn.
+
+The living are the living
+    And dead the dead will stay,
+And I will sort with comrades
+    That face the beam of day.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+
+The night is freezing fast,
+    To-morrow comes December;
+          And winterfalls of old
+Are with me from the past;
+    And chiefly I remember
+          How Dick would hate the cold.
+
+Fall, winter, fall; for he,
+    Prompt hand and headpiece clever,
+          Has woven a winter robe,
+And made of earth and sea
+    His overcoat for ever,
+          And wears the turning globe.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+
+The fairies break their dances
+    And leave the printed lawn,
+And up from India glances
+    The silver sail of dawn.
+
+The candles burn their sockets,
+    The blinds let through the day,
+The young man feels his pockets
+    And wonders what’s to pay.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+
+The sloe was lost in flower,
+    The April elm was dim;
+That was the lover’s hour,
+    The hour for lies and him.
+
+If thorns are all the bower,
+    If north winds freeze the fir,
+Why, ‘tis another’s hour,
+    The hour for truth and her.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+
+In the morning, in the morning,
+    In the happy field of hay,
+Oh they looked at one another
+    By the light of day.
+
+In the blue and silver morning
+    On the haycock as they lay,
+Oh they looked at one another
+    And they looked away.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+EPITHALAMIUM
+
+
+    He is here, Urania’s son,
+Hymen come from Helicon;
+God that glads the lover’s heart,
+He is here to join and part.
+So the groomsman quits your side
+And the bridegroom seeks the bride:
+Friend and comrade yield you o’er
+To her that hardly loves you more.
+
+    Now the sun his skyward beam
+Has tilted from the Ocean stream.
+Light the Indies, laggard sun:
+Happy bridegroom, day is done,
+And the star from Œta’s steep
+Calls to bed but not to sleep.
+
+    Happy bridegroom, Hesper brings
+All desired and timely things.
+All whom morning sends to roam,
+Hesper loves to lead them home.
+Home return who him behold,
+Child to mother, sheep to fold,
+Bird to nest from wandering wide:
+Happy bridegroom, seek your bride.
+
+    Pour it out, the golden cup
+Given and guarded, brimming up,
+Safe through jostling markets borne
+And the thicket of the thorn;
+Folly spurned and danger past,
+Pour it to the god at last.
+
+    Now, to smother noise and light,
+Is stolen abroad the wildering night,
+And the blotting shades confuse
+Path and meadow full of dews;
+And the high heavens, that all control,
+Turn in silence round the pole.
+Catch the starry beams they shed
+Prospering the marriage bed,
+And breed the land that reared your prime
+Sons to stay the rot of time.
+All is quiet, no alarms;
+Nothing fear of nightly harms.
+Safe you sleep on guarded ground,
+And in silent circle round
+The thoughts of friends keep watch and ward,
+Harnessed angels, hand on sword.
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+THE ORACLES
+
+
+‘Tis mute, the word they went to hear on high Dodona mountain
+    When winds were in the oakenshaws and all the cauldrons tolled,
+And mute’s the midland navel-stone beside the singing fountain,
+    And echoes list to silence now where gods told lies of old.
+
+I took my question to the shrine that has not ceased from speaking,
+    The heart within, that tells the truth and tells it twice as plain;
+And from the cave of oracles I heard the priestess shrieking
+    That she and I should surely die and never live again.
+
+Oh priestess, what you cry is clear, and sound good sense I think it;
+    But let the screaming echoes rest, and froth your mouth no more.
+‘Tis true there’s better boose than brine, but he that drowns must drink it;
+    And oh, my lass, the news is news that men have heard before.
+
+The King with half the East at heel is marched from lands of morning;
+    Their fighters drink the rivers up, their shafts benight the air.
+And he that stands will die for nought, and home there’s no returning.
+    The Spartans on the sea-wet rock sat down and combed their hair.
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+
+The half-moon westers low, my love,
+    And the wind brings up the rain;
+And wide apart lie we, my love,
+    And seas between the twain.
+
+I know not if it rains, my love,
+    In the land where you do lie;
+And oh, so sound you sleep, my love,
+    You know no more than I.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+
+The sigh that heaves the grasses
+    Whence thou wilt never rise
+Is of the air that passes
+    And knows not if it sighs.
+
+The diamond tears adorning
+    Thy low mound on the lea,
+Those are the tears of morning,
+    That weeps, but not for thee.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+
+Now dreary dawns the eastern light,
+    And fall of eve is drear,
+And cold the poor man lies at night,
+    And so goes out the year.
+
+Little is the luck I’ve had,
+    And oh, ‘tis comfort small
+To think that many another lad
+    Has had no luck at all.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX
+
+
+Wake not for the world-heard thunder
+    Nor the chime that earthquakes toll.
+Star may plot in heaven with planet,
+Lightning rive the rock of granite,
+Tempest tread the oakwood under:
+    Fear not you for flesh nor soul.
+Marching, fighting, victory past,
+Stretch your limbs in peace at last.
+
+Stir not for the soldiers drilling
+    Nor the fever nothing cures:
+Throb of drum and timbal’s rattle
+Call but man alive to battle,
+And the fife with death-notes filling
+    Screams for blood but not for yours.
+Times enough you bled your best;
+Sleep on now, and take your rest.
+
+Sleep, my lad; the French are landed,
+    London’s burning, Windsor’s down;
+Clasp your cloak of earth about you,
+We must man the ditch without you,
+March unled and fight short-handed,
+    Charge to fall and swim to drown.
+Duty, friendship, bravery o’er,
+Sleep away, lad; wake no more.
+
+
+
+
+XXX
+
+SINNER’S RUE
+
+
+I walked alone and thinking,
+    And faint the nightwind blew
+And stirred on mounds at crossways
+    The flower of sinner’s rue.
+
+Where the roads part they bury
+    Him that his own hand slays,
+And so the weed of sorrow
+    Springs at the four cross ways.
+
+By night I plucked it hueless,
+    When morning broke ‘twas blue:
+Blue at my breast I fastened
+    The flower of sinner’s rue.
+
+It seemed a herb of healing,
+    A balsam and a sign,
+Flower of a heart whose trouble
+    Must have been worse than mine.
+
+Dead clay that did me kindness,
+    I can do none to you,
+But only wear for breastknot
+    The flower of sinner’s rue.
+
+
+
+
+XXXI
+
+HELL’S GATE
+
+
+    Onward led the road again
+Through the sad uncoloured plain
+Under twilight brooding dim,
+And along the utmost rim
+Wall and rampart risen to sight
+Cast a shadow not of night,
+And beyond them seemed to glow
+Bonfires lighted long ago.
+And my dark conductor broke
+Silence at my side and spoke,
+Saying, "You conjecture well:
+Yonder is the gate of hell."
+
+    Ill as yet the eye could see
+The eternal masonry,
+But beneath it on the dark
+To and fro there stirred a spark.
+And again the sombre guide
+Knew my question, and replied:
+"At hell gate the damned in turn
+Pace for sentinel and burn."
+
+    Dully at the leaden sky
+Staring, and with idle eye
+Measuring the listless plain,
+I began to think again.
+Many things I thought of then,
+Battle, and the loves of men,
+Cities entered, oceans crossed,
+Knowledge gained and virtue lost,
+Cureless folly done and said,
+And the lovely way that led
+To the slimepit and the mire
+And the everlasting fire.
+And against a smoulder dun
+And a dawn without a sun
+Did the nearing bastion loom,
+And across the gate of gloom
+Still one saw the sentry go,
+Trim and burning, to and fro,
+One for women to admire
+In his finery of fire.
+Something, as I watched him pace,
+Minded me of time and place,
+Soldiers of another corps
+And a sentry known before.
+
+    Ever darker hell on high
+Reared its strength upon the sky,
+And our football on the track
+Fetched the daunting echo back.
+But the soldier pacing still
+The insuperable sill,
+Nursing his tormented pride,
+Turned his head to neither side,
+Sunk into himself apart
+And the hell-fire of his heart.
+But against our entering in
+From the drawbridge Death and Sin
+Rose to render key and sword
+To their father and their lord.
+And the portress foul to see
+Lifted up her eyes on me
+Smiling, and I made reply:
+"Met again, my lass," said I.
+Then the sentry turned his head,
+Looked, and knew me, and was Ned.
+
+    Once he looked, and halted straight,
+Set his back against the gate,
+Caught his musket to his chin,
+While the hive of hell within
+Sent abroad a seething hum
+As of towns whose king is come
+Leading conquest home from far
+And the captives of his war,
+And the car of triumph waits,
+And they open wide the gates.
+But across the entry barred
+Straddled the revolted guard,
+Weaponed and accoutred well
+From the arsenals of hell;
+And beside him, sick and white,
+Sin to left and Death to right
+Turned a countenance of fear
+On the flaming mutineer.
+Over us the darkness bowed,
+And the anger in the cloud
+Clenched the lightning for the stroke;
+But the traitor musket spoke.
+
+    And the hollowness of hell
+Sounded as its master fell,
+And the mourning echo rolled
+Ruin through his kingdom old.
+Tyranny and terror flown
+Left a pair of friends alone,
+And beneath the nether sky
+All that stirred was he and I.
+
+    Silent, nothing found to say,
+We began the backward way;
+And the ebbing luster died
+From the soldier at my side,
+As in all his spruce attire
+Failed the everlasting fire.
+Midmost of the homeward track
+Once we listened and looked back;
+But the city, dusk and mute,
+Slept, and there was no pursuit.
+
+
+
+
+XXXII
+
+
+When I would muse in boyhood
+    The wild green woods among,
+And nurse resolves and fancies
+    Because the world was young,
+It was not foes to conquer,
+    Nor sweethearts to be kind,
+But it was friends to die for
+    That I would seek and find.
+
+I sought them far and found them,
+    The sure, the straight, the brave,
+The hearts I lost my own to,
+    The souls I could not save.
+They braced their belts about them,
+    They crossed in ships the sea,
+They sought and found six feet of ground,
+    And there they died for me.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+
+When the eye of day is shut,
+    And the stars deny their beams,
+And about the forest hut
+    Blows the roaring wood of dreams,
+
+From deep clay, from desert rock,
+    From the sunk sands of the main,
+Come not at my door to knock,
+    Hearts that loved me not again.
+
+Sleep, be still, turn to your rest
+    In the lands where you are laid;
+In far lodgings east and west
+    Lie down on the beds you made.
+
+In gross marl, in blowing dust,
+    In the drowned ooze of the sea,
+Where you would not, lie you must,
+    Lie you must, and not with me.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+THE FIRST OF MAY
+
+
+The orchards half the way
+    From home to Ludlow fair
+Flowered on the first of May
+    In Mays when I was there;
+And seen from stile or turning
+    The plume of smoke would show
+Where fires were burning
+    That went out long ago.
+
+The plum broke forth in green,
+    The pear stood high and snowed,
+My friends and I between
+    Would take the Ludlow road;
+Dressed to the nines and drinking
+    And light in heart and limb,
+And each chap thinking
+    The fair was held for him.
+
+Between the trees in flower
+    New friends at fairtime tread
+The way where Ludlow tower
+    Stands planted on the dead.
+Our thoughts, a long while after,
+    They think, our words they say;
+Theirs now’s the laughter,
+    The fair, the first of May.
+
+Ay, yonder lads are yet
+    The fools that we were then;
+For oh, the sons we get
+    Are still the sons of men.
+The sumless tale of sorrow
+    Is all unrolled in vain:
+May comes to-morrow
+    And Ludlow fair again.
+
+
+
+
+XXXV
+
+
+When first my way to fair I took
+    Few pence in purse had I,
+And long I used to stand and look
+    At things I could not buy.
+
+Now times are altered:  if I care
+    To buy a thing, I can;
+The pence are here and here’s the fair,
+    But where’s the lost young man?
+
+--To think that two and two are four
+    And neither five nor three
+The heart of man has long been sore
+    And long ‘tis like to be.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVI
+
+REVOLUTION
+
+
+West and away the wheels of darkness roll,
+    Day’s beamy banner up the east is borne,
+Spectres and fears, the nightmare and her foal,
+    Drown in the golden deluge of the morn.
+
+But over sea and continent from sight
+    Safe to the Indies has the earth conveyed
+The vast and moon-eclipsing cone of night,
+    Her towering foolscap of eternal shade.
+
+See, in mid heaven the sun is mounted; hark,
+    The belfries tingle to the noonday chime.
+‘Tis silent, and the subterranean dark
+    Has crossed the nadir, and begins to climb.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVII
+
+EPITAPH ON AN ARMY OF MERCENARIES
+
+
+These, in the day when heaven was falling,
+    The hour when earth’s foundations fled,
+Followed their mercenary calling
+    And took their wages and are dead.
+
+Their shoulders held the sky suspended;
+    They stood, and earth’s foundations stay;
+What God abandoned, these defended,
+    And saved the sum of things for pay.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVIII
+
+
+Oh stay at home, my lad, and plough
+    The land and not the sea,
+And leave the soldiers at their drill,
+And all about the idle hill
+    Shepherd your sheep with me.
+
+Oh stay with company and mirth
+    And daylight and the air;
+Too full already is the grave
+Of fellows that were good and brave
+    And died because they were.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIX
+
+
+When summer’s end is nighing
+    And skies at evening cloud,
+I muse on change and fortune
+    And all the feats I vowed
+    When I was young and proud.
+
+The weathercock at sunset
+    Would lose the slanted ray,
+And I would climb the beacon
+    That looked to Wales away
+    And saw the last of day.
+
+From hill and cloud and heaven
+    The hues of evening died;
+Night welled through lane and hollow
+    And hushed the countryside,
+    But I had youth and pride.
+
+And I with earth and nightfall
+    In converse high would stand,
+Late, till the west was ashen
+    And darkness hard at hand,
+    And the eye lost the land.
+
+The year might age, and cloudy
+    The lessening day might close,
+But air of other summers
+    Breathed from beyond the snows,
+    And I had hope of those.
+
+They came and were and are not
+    And come no more anew;
+And all the years and seasons
+    That ever can ensue
+    Must now be worse and few.
+
+So here’s an end of roaming
+    On eves when autumn nighs:
+The ear too fondly listens
+    For summer’s parting sighs,
+    And then the heart replies.
+
+
+
+
+XL
+
+
+Tell me not here, it needs not saying,
+    What tune the enchantress plays
+In aftermaths of soft September
+    Or under blanching mays,
+For she and I were long acquainted
+    And I knew all her ways.
+
+On russet floors, by waters idle,
+    The pine lets fall its cone;
+The cuckoo shouts all day at nothing
+    In leafy dells alone;
+And traveler’s joy beguiles in autumn
+    Hearts that have lost their own.
+
+On acres of the seeded grasses
+    The changing burnish heaves;
+Or marshalled under moons of harvest
+    Stand still all night the sheaves;
+Or beeches strip in storms for winter
+    And stain the wind with leaves.
+
+Possess, as I possessed a season,
+    The countries I resign,
+Where over elmy plains the highway
+    Would mount the hills and shine,
+And full of shade the pillared forest
+    Would murmur and be mine.
+
+For nature, heartless, witless nature,
+    Will neither care nor know
+What stranger’s feet may find the meadow
+    And trespass there and go,
+Nor ask amid the dews of morning
+    If they are mine or no.
+
+
+
+
+XLI
+
+FANCY’S KNELL
+
+
+When lads were home from labour
+    At Abdon under Clee,
+A man would call his neighbor
+    And both would send for me.
+And where the light in lances
+    Across the mead was laid,
+There to the dances
+    I fetched my flute and played.
+
+Ours were idle pleasures,
+    Yet oh, content we were,
+The young to wind the measures,
+    The old to heed the air;
+And I to lift with playing
+    From tree and tower and steep
+The light delaying,
+    And flute the sun to sleep.
+
+The youth toward his fancy
+    Would turn his brow of tan,
+And Tom would pair with Nancy
+    And Dick step off with Fan;
+The girl would lift her glances
+    To his, and both be mute:
+Well went the dances
+    At evening to the flute.
+
+Wenlock Edge was umbered,
+    And bright was Abdon Burf,
+And warm between them slumbered
+    The smooth green miles of turf;
+Until from grass and clover
+    The upshot beam would fade,
+And England over
+    Advanced the lofty shade.
+
+The lofty shade advances,
+    I fetch my flute and play:
+Come, lads, and learn the dances
+    And praise the tune to-day.
+To-morrow, more’s the pity,
+    Away we both must hie,
+To air the ditty,
+    And to earth I.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Last Poems, by A. E. Housman
+
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