The Mad Cybrarian's Library
Alfred Edward Housman
BIBLIOGRAPHY
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A Shropshire Lad
(UVa)
1896
. Illustrations. (70 KB)
From Clee to heaven the beacon burns
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Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
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Leave your home behind, lad
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Wake: the silver dusk returning
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Oh see how thick the goldcup flowers
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When the lad for longing sighs
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When smoke stood up from Ludlow
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Farewell to barn and stack and tree
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On moonlit heath and lonesome bank
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The Sun at noon to higher air
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On your midnight pallet lying
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When I watch the living meet
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When I was one-and-twenty
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There pass the careless people
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Look not in my eyes, for fear
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It nods and curtseys and recovers
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Twice a week the winter thorough
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Oh, when I was in love with you
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The time you won your town the race
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Oh fair enough are sky and plain
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In summertime on Bredon
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The street sounds to the soldiers' tread
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The lads in their hundreds
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Say, lad, have you things to do
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This time of year a twelvemonth past
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Along the field as we came by
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Is my team ploughing
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High the vanes of Shrewsbury gleam
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'Tis spring; come out to ramble
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Others, I am not the first
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On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble
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From far, from eve and morning
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If truth in hearts that perish
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Oh, sick I am to see you
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On the idle hill of summer
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White in the moon the long road lies
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As through the wild green hills of Wyre
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The winds out of the west land blow
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Tis time, I think, by Wenlock town
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Into my heart an air that kills
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In my own shire, if I was sad
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Once in the wind of morning
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When I meet the morning beam
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Shot? so quick, so clean an ending
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If it chance your eye offend you
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Bring, in this timeless grave to throw
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Here the hangman stops his cart
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Be still, my soul, be still
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Think no more, lad; laugh, by jolly
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In valleys of springs of rivers
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Loitering with a vacant eye
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Far in a western brookland
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The lad came to the door at night
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With rue my heart is laden
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Westward on the high-hilled plains
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Far I hear the bugle blow
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You smile upon your friend to-day
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When I came last to Ludlow
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The star-filled seas are smooth to-night
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Now hollow fires burn out to black
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The vane on Hughley steeple
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Terence, this is stupid stuff
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(HTI)
I hoed and trenched and weeded
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