Verse > A.E. Housman > A Shropshire Lad > Index of First Lines
A. E. Housman (1859–1936).  A Shropshire Lad.  1896.
Index of First Lines

Along the field as we came by
As through the wild green hills of Wyre
Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle
Bring, in this timeless grave to throw
Farewell to barn and stack and tree
Far I hear the bugle blow
Far in a western brookland
From Clee to heaven the beacon burns
From far, from eve and morning
Here the hangman stops his cart
High the vanes of Shrewsbury gleam
If it chance your eye offend you
If truth in hearts that perish
I hoed and trenched and weeded
In my own shire, if I was sad
In summertime on Bredon
Into my heart on air that kills
In valleys of springs of rivers
Is my team ploughing
It nods and curtseys and recovers
Lad came to the door at night, The
Lads in their hundreds to Ludlow come in for the fair, The
Leave your home behind, lad
Loitering with a vacant eye
Look not in my eyes, for fear
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Now hollow fires burn out to black
Oh fair enough are sky and plain
Oh see how thick the goldcup flowers
Oh, sick I am to see you, will you never let me be?
Oh, when I was in love with you
Once in the wind of morning
On moonlit heath and lonesome bank
On the idle hill of summer
On Wenlock Edge the wood’s in trouble
On your midnight pallet lying
Others, I am not the first
Say, lad, have you things to do?
Shot? so quick, so clean an ending?
Star-filled seas are smooth to-night, The
Street sounds to the soldiers’ tread, The
Sun at noon to higher air, The
Terence, this is stupid stuff
There pass the careless people
Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly
This time of year a twelvemonth past
Time you won your town the race, The
Tis spring; come out to ramble
Tis time, I think, by Wenlock town
Twice a week the winter thorough
Vane on Hughley steeple, The
Wake: the silver dusk returning
Westward on the high-hilled plains
When I came last to Ludlow
When I meet the morning beam
When I was one-and-twenty
When I watch the living meet
When smoke stood up from Ludlow
When the lad for longing sighs
White in the moon the long road lies
Winds out of the west land blow, The
With rue my heart is laden
You smile upon your friend to-day



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