| A. E. Housman (1859–1936). A Shropshire Lad. 1896. |
| |
| XXXI. On Wenlock Edge the wood’s in trouble |
| |
| |
| 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 | 5 |
| 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: | 10 |
| 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: | 15 |
| 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. | 20 |
| |
| |
