Quotes from A.E. Housman

When the lad for longing sighs, Mute and dull of cheer and pale, If at death's own door he lies, Maiden, you can heal his ail. Lovers' ills are all to buy: The wan look, the hollow tone, The hung head, the sunken eye, You can have them for your own. Buy them, buy them: eve and morn Lovers' ills are all to sell. Then you can lie down forlorn; But the lover will be well.

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.

The tree of man was never quiet: Then 'twas the Roman, now 'tis I.

The troubles of our proud and angry dust are from eternity, and shall not fail.

Down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy till I woke again.

Nature, not content with denying him the ability to think, has endowed him with the ability to write.

Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man.

It nods and curtseys and recovers When the wind blows above, The nettle on the graves of lovers That hanged themselves for love. The nettle nods, the wind blows over, The man, he does not move, The lover of the grave, the lover That hanged himself for love.

When Green Buds Hang in the Elm Like Dust When green buds hang in the elm like dust And sprinkle the lime like rain, Forth I wander, forth I must, And drink of life again. Forth I must by hedgerow bowers To look at the leaves uncurled, And stand in the fields where cuckoo-flowers Are lying about the world.

Some men are more interesting than their books but my book is more interesting than its man.

To-day I shall be strong, No more shall yield to wrong, Shall squander life no more; Days lost, I know not how, I shall retrieve them now; Now I shall keep the vow I never kept before.

Oh, when I was in love with you, Then I was clean and brave, And miles around the wonder grew How well did I behave. And now the fancy passes by, And nothing will remain, And miles around they'll say that I Am quite myself again.

Ale, man, Ale's the stuff to drink, for fellows whom it hurts to think.

From far, from eve and morning And yon twelve-winded sky, The stuff of life to knit me Blew hither: here am I. Now--for a breath I tarry Nor yet disperse apart-- Take my hand quick and tell me, What have you in your heart. Speak now, and I will answer; How shall I help you, say; Ere to the wind's twelve quarters I take my endless way.

When the bells justle in the tower The hollow night amid, Then on my tongue the taste is sour Of all I ever did.

And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good.

First don: O cuckoo, shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice? Second don: State the alternative preferred, With reasons for your choice.

Great literature should do some good to the reader: must quicken his perception though dull, and sharpen his discrimination though blunt, and mellow the rawness of his personal opinions.

Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me.

Tis the old wind in the old anger, But then it threshed another wood.

A stranger and afraid in a world I never made.

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. (Last Poems, IX)

I have seldom written poetry unless I was rather out of health.

Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never; I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever.