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Housman is (at different ages) both main characters of Tom Stoppards The Invention of Love.
In the play, one character offers a brief, humorous assessment of A Shropshire Lad.
A Shropshire Lad
(1895) | ||
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II [complete] |
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough, And stands about the woodland ride Wearing white for Eastertide. Now, of my threescore years and ten, Twenty will not come again, And take from seventy springs a score, It only leaves me fifty more. And since to look at things in bloom Fifty springs are little room, About the woodlands I will go To see the cherry hung with snow. | Topics: |
IV |
Clay lies still, but bloods a rover; Breaths a ware that will not keep. Up, lad: when the journeys over Therell be time enough to sleep. | Topics: |
XIII [complete] |
When I was one-and-twenty I heard a wise man say, Give crowns and pounds and guineas But not your heart away; Give pearls away and rubies But keep your fancy free. But I was one-and-twenty, No use to talk to me. When I was one-and-twenty I heard him say again, The heart out of the bosom Was never given in vain; Tis paid with sighs a plenty And sold for endless rue. And I am two-and-twenty, And oh, tis true, tis true. | |
XVII [complete] |
Oh, when I was in love with you, Then I was clean and brave, And miles around the wonder grew How well I did behave. And now the fancy passes by, And nothing will remain, And miles around theyll say that I Am quite myself again. | Topic: |
XX [complete] |
Oh fair enough are sky and plain, But I know fairer far: Those are as beautiful again That in the water are; The pools and rivers wash so clean The trees and clouds and air, The like on earth was never seen, And oh that I were there. These are the thoughts I often think As I stand gazing down In act upon the cressy brink To strip and dive and drown; But in the golden-sanded brooks And azure meres I spy A silly lad that longs and looks And wishes he were I. | Topic: |
XXXII [complete] |
From far, from eve and morning And yon twelve-winded sky, The stuff of life to knit me Blew hither: here am I. Nowfor 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 winds twelve quarters I take my endless way. Note (Hals): end note | |
XLI |
Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, anothers care. They have enough as tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. | Topic: |
XLIX |
Oh, tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever, Oh, they would be young for ever: Think no more; tis only thinking Lays lads underground. | |
LXII Terence, This Is Stupid Stuff |
Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify Gods ways to man. Ale, man, ales the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the worlds not. And faith, tis pleasant till tis past: The mischief is that twill not last. | Topic: |
Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Lucks a chance, but troubles sure, Id face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. Tis true the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale: Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it: if the smack is sour, The better for the embittered hour; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my souls stead; And I will friend you, if I may, In the dark and cloudy day. | Compare to: | |
LXIII |
I hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. | Topic: |
text checked (see note) Apr 2005 |