I could no more define poetry than a terrier can define a rat.
quote by Alfred Edward Housman
Added by Lucian Velea
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And malt does more than Milton can To justify the ways of God to man.
quote by Alfred Edward Housman
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Nature not content with denying him the ability to think, has endowed him with the ability to write.
quote by Alfred Edward Housman
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The Grizzly Bear
The Grizzly Bear is huge and wild
It has devoured the little child.
The little child is unaware
It has been eaten by the bear.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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Here Dead We Lie
Here dead we lie
Because we did not choose
To live and shame the land
From which we sprung.
Life, to be sure,
Is nothing much to lose,
But young men think it is,
And we were young.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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The rainy Pleiads wester
The rainy Pleiads wester,
Orion plunges prone,
The stroke of midnight ceases
And I lie down alone.
The rainy Pleiads wester,
And seek beyond the sea
The head that I shall dream of
That will not dream of me.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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Stars
Stars, I have seen them fall,
But when they drop and die
No star is lost at all
From all the star-sown sky.
The toil of all that be
Helps not the primal fault;
It rains into the sea,
And still the sea is salt.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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With Rue My Heart Is Laden
With rue my heart is laden
For golden friends I had,
For many a rose-lipt maiden
And many a lightfoot lad.
By brooks too broad for leaping
The lightfoot boys are laid;
The rose-lipt girls are sleeping
In fields where roses fade.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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Oh, when I was in love with you
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.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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O Why Do You Walk (a Parody)
O why do you walk through the fields in boots,
Missing so much and so much?
O fat white woman whom nobody shoots,
Why do you walk through the fields in boots,
When the grass is soft as the breast of coots
And shivering-sweet to the touch?
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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