A. E. Housman



A Shropshire Lad

’Tis time, I think,
by Wenlock town



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A. E. Housman (1859-1936)

A Shropshire Lad


’Tis time, I think, by Wenlock town
The golden broom should blow;
The hawthorn sprinkled up and down
Should charge the land with snow.

Spring will not wait the loiterer’s time
Who keeps so long away;
So others wear the broom and climb
The hedgerows heaped with may.

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




The winds out of the west land blow

Into my heart an air that kills