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A. E. Housman (1859–1936). A Shropshire Lad. 1896.

Index of Titles

Along the field as we came by
As through the wild green hills of Wyre
Be still, my soul, be still
Bring, in this timeless grave to throw
Carpenter’s Son, The
Day of Battle, The
Farewell to barn and stack and tree
Far in a western brookland
From Clee to heaven the beacon burns
From far, from eve and morning
Hughley Steeple
If it chance your eye offend you
If truth in hearts that perish
I hoed and trenched and weeded
Immortal Part, The
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
Isle of Portland, The
Is my team ploughing
It nods and curtseys and recovers
Lads in their hundreds, The
Lent Lily, The
Loitering with a vacant eye
Look not in my eyes, for fear
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Merry Guide, The
New Mistress, The
Now hollow fires burn out to black
Oh fair enough are sky and plain
Oh see how thick the goldcup flowers
Oh, when I was in love with you
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
Recruit, The
Say, lad, have you things to do
Shot? so quick, so clean an ending
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
Tis time, I think, by Wenlock town
To an Athlete Dying Young
True Lover, The
Twice a week the winter thorough
Welsh Marches, The
Westward on the high-hilled plains
When I came last to Ludlow
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