Poems by A E Housman

[atiguhya padma]

I just wondered what people thought of Housman's poetry. Here are a few of his poems:

IS MY TEAM PLOUGHING

by: A.E. Housman (1860-1936)

IS my team ploughing,
That I was used to drive
And hear the harness jingle
When I was man alive?'

Ay, the horses trample,
The harness jingles now;
No change though you lie under
The land you used to plough.

'Is football playing
Along the river shore,
With lads to chase the leather,
Now I stand up no more?'

Ay, the ball is flying,
The lads play heart and soul,
The goal stands up, the keeper
Stands up to keep the goal.

'Is my girl happy,
That I thought hard to leave,
And has she tired of weeping
As she lies down at eve?'

Ay, she lies down lightly,
She lies not down to weep:
Your girl is well contented.
Be still, my lad, and sleep.

'Is my friend hearty,
Now I am thin and pine,
And has he found to sleep in
A better bed than mine?'

Yes, lad, I lie easy,
I lie as lads would choose;
I cheer a dead man's sweetheart,
Never ask me whose.

WENLOCK EDGE

by: A.E. Housman (1860-1936)

ON Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble;
His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves;
The gale, it plies the saplings double,
And thick on Severn snow the leaves.

'Twould blow like this through holt and hanger
When Uricon the city stood:
'Tis the old wind in the old anger,
But then it threshed another wood.

Then, 'twas before my time, the Roman
At yonder heaving hill would stare:
The blood that warms an English yeoman,
The thoughts that hurt him, they were there.

There, like the wind through woods in riot,
Through him the gale of life blew high;
The tree of man was never quiet:
Then 'twas the Roman, now 'tis I.

The gale, it plies the saplings double,
It blows so hard, 'twill soon be gone:
To-day the Roman and his trouble
Are ashes under Uricon.

WHEN I WAS ONE-AND-TWENTY

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.

[mono]

I like the second poem especially, "Wenlock Edge;" all of the works have such a perfected style, that they almost have a musical feel. Thank you for sharing them, AP; I will look up more of Housman's work, and perhaps share more that I find appealing.

[mono]

After doing some research, I will paste more poems by A.E. Housman that I, too, enjoyed. For anyone wanting to read more of his poetry, an excellent website I came across: http://www.chiark.greenend.org.uk/~m...s/housman.html

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.
To-morrow 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.

---

XXX

Shake hands, we shall never be friends, all's over;
I only vex you the more I try.
All's wrong that ever I've done or said,
And nought to help it in this dull head:
Shake hands, here's luck, good-bye.

But if you come to a road where danger
Or guilt or anguish or shame's to share,
Be good to the lad that loves you true
And the soul that was born to die for you,
And whistle and I'll be there.

---

XLVIII

Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle,
Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong.
Think rather, -- call to thought, if now you grieve a little,
The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long.

Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry
I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn;
Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry:
Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born.

Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason,
I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun.
Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season:
Let us endure an hour and see injustice done.

Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation;
All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain:
Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation --
Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again?

[subterranean]

WHEN I WAS ONE-AND-TWENTY

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.

Isn't the wise man saying the rite thing?

[atiguhya padma]

Well I think he is. But then people call me a cynic. (Diogenes, the greatest of all cynics, was sunbathing one day when Alexander the Great came to visit. Alexander told Diogenes that he would give him anything that he desired. To which Diogenes replied that he would like Alexander to step out of the path of the sun, so he could continue sunbathing).

[Sly Kelly]

Well I think he is. But then people call me a cynic. (Diogenes, the greatest of all cynics, was sunbathing one day when Alexander the Great came to visit. Alexander told Diogenes that he would give him anything that he desired. To which Diogenes replied that he would like Alexander to step out of the path of the sun, so he could continue sunbathing).

I liked the Diogenes story.. I went looking for a housman forum, and I found even more. First day at this you. Perhaps you can tell. Housman has long been a fav of mine.....Although he repeated himself often with a "stay the course" approach to style and theme, he is always (almost always) of high quaility.

[bluevictim]

I haven't read many of Housman's poems, but this one always amuses me. I've posted it before, but it's probably more appropriate here. I think it will amuse anyone who is familiar with Greek tragedies, especially Aeschylus.

In keeping with the spirit of the poem, I made a couple of "emendations" (source). Unfortunately, the only way I know to preserve spacing is to use the "code" format.

FRAGMENT OF A GREEK TRAGEDY
by A. E. Housman

                CHORUS:  O suitably-attired-in-leather-boots
          Head of a traveller, wherefore seeking whom
          Whence by what way how purposed art thou come
          To this well-nightingaled vicinity?
5         My object in inquiring is to know.
          But if you happen to be deaf and dumb
          And do not understand a word I say,
          Then wave your hand, to signify as much.

                ALCMAEON: I journeyed hither a Boetian road.
10              CHORUS: Sailing on horseback, or with feet for oars?
                ALCMAEON: Plying with speed my partnership of legs.
                CHORUS: Beneath a shining or a rainy Zeus?
                ALCMAEON: Mud's sister, not himself, adorns my shoes.
                CHORUS: To learn your name would not displease me much.
15              ALCMAEON: Not all that men desire do they obtain.
                CHORUS: Might I then hear at what thy presence shoots.
                ALCMAEON: A shepherd's questioned mouth informed me that--
                CHORUS: What? for I know not yet what you will say.
                ALCMAEON: Nor will you ever, if you interrupt.
20              CHORUS: Proceed, and I will hold my speechless tongue.
                ALCMAEON: This house was Eriphyle's, no one else's.
                CHORUS: Nor did he shame his throat with shameful lies.
                ALCMAEON: May I then enter, passing through the door?
                CHORUS: Go chase into the house a lucky foot.
25        And, O my son, be, on the one hand, good,
          And do not, on the other hand, be bad;
          For that is much the safest plan.
                ALCMAEON: I go into the house with heels and speed.

                CHORUS

                         Strophe

          In speculation
30        I would not willingly acquire a name
                For ill-digested thought;
                But after pondering much
          To this conclusion I at last have come:
                LIFE IS UNCERTAIN.
35              This truth I have written deep
                In my reflective midriff
                On tablets not of wax,
          Nor with a pen did I inscribe it there,
          For many reasons:  LIFE, I say, IS NOT
40              A STRANGER TO UNCERTAINTY.
          Not from the flight of omen-yelling fowls
                This fact did I discover,
          Nor did the Delphine tripod bark it out,
                Nor yet Dodona.
45        Its native ingenuity sufficed
                My self-taught diaphragm.

                       Antistrophe

                Why should I mention
          The Inachean daughter, loved of Zeus?
                Her whom of old the gods,
50              More provident than kind,
          Provided with four hoofs, two horns, one tail,
                A gift not asked for,
                And sent her forth to learn
                The unfamiliar science
55              Of how to chew the cud.
          She therefore, all about the Argive fields,
          Went cropping pale green grass and nettle-tops,
                Nor did they disagree with her.
          But yet, howe'er nutritious, such repasts
60              I do not hanker after:
          Never may Cypris for her seat select
                My dappled liver!
          Why should I mention Io?  Why indeed?
                I have no notion why.

                      Epode

65              But now does my boding heart,
                Unhired, unaccompanied, sing
                A strain not meet for the dance.
                Yes even the palace appears
                To my yoke of circular eyes
70              (The right, nor omit I the left)
                Like a slaughterhouse, so to speak,
                Garnished with woolly deaths
                And many shipwrecks of cows.
          I therefore in a Cissian strain lament:
75              And to the rapid
                Loud, linen-tattering thumps upon my chest
                Resounds in concert
          The battering of my unlucky head.

                ERIPHYLE (within): O, I am smitten with a hatchet's jaw;
80        And that in deed and not in word alone.
                CHORUS: I thought I heard a sound within the house
          Unlike the voice of one that jumps for joy.
                ERIPHYLE: He splits my skull, not in a friendly way,
          Once more: he purposes to kill me dead.
85              CHORUS: I would not be reputed rash, but yet
          I doubt if all be gay within the house.
                ERIPHYLE: O! O! another stroke! that makes the third.
          He stabs me to the heart against my wish.
                CHORUS: If that be so, thy state of health is poor;
90        But thine arithmetic is quite correct.


-------------------------

45 ingenuity] ingunuity
73 shipwrecks] sphipwrecks

[summer grace]

I love his poetry as well. It was very simple, but it really speaks of so much. I will post the parts of his poems that I most enjoy, that I have copied down from my reading. I think his poetry can be dark, and it has a really cynical cast to it. He never viewed the world in a real rosy way. He thought of himself not as a poet, but has a greek/latin scholar. That was his career, but I like him better as a poet, minor one though he was, and despite the fact he did it as a hobby, and may not have seriously thought of himself as a poet. The book of his collected poems is really good. I am glad I found others who like his poetry!

[Sly Kelly]

Housman's A Shropshire Lad--1896--represents his highpoint...and his other book of verse, Last Poems--1922-- is, for the most part, a tired replication of his earlier work. The last three poems of LP are quite good....worthy of his best...they were "farewell" poems...and few poets said "good bye" to is his art or his audience so gracefully.

I don't know much about Greek theater...but I have been lately studying the Parthenon and other temples....as well as another Greek legacy, democracy. It's origins--democracy--are unknown to me...any books to recommend?

[bluevictim]

It's origins--democracy--are unknown to me...any books to recommend?

That was never a particular interest of mine, so I don't have anything specific to recommend, but any good overview of the history of ancient Greece should discuss it (the origins of Greek democracy), and would probably come with a bibliography for further reading. The one that I have on hand is Ancient Greece: a Political, Social, and Cultural History by Sarah B. Pomperoy, Stanley M. Burstein, Walter Donlan, and Jennifer Tolbert Roberts. Here's a review of a recent book about Athenian democracy aimed more for specialists. HTH