By A. E. Housman
A. E. Housman used to be one of many best-loved poets of his day, whose poems conjure up a effective and idyllic rural international imbued with a poignant experience of loss. they're expressed in easy rhythms, but express a great ear for the subtleties of metre and alliteration. His scope is vast -- starting from spiritual doubt to severe nostalgia for the geographical region. This quantity brings jointly 'A Shropshire Lad' (1896) and 'Last Poems' (1922), besides the posthumous choices 'More Poems' and 'Additional Poems', and 3 translations of extracts from Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides that demonstrate his mastery of Classical literature.
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Additional resources for A Shropshire Lad and Other Poems: The Collected Poems of A.E. Housman
The moment has gone. It's too late now. Let's drink our tea. Is it possible, then, for death to come in that kind of carriage? To pass by and go away? And only this carriage to remain, with its little yellow wheels of lemon parked for so many years on a side street with unlit lamps, and then a small song, a little mist, and then nothing? 28 o TTNAIKES WOMEN Women are very distant. " They set the bread down on the table so that we don't feel they're absent. Then we recognize that it was our fault.
This star is alone, like a cigarette forgotten on the table— smoking, smoking in the blue, alone. And I'm alone, he said. I light my cigarette, I smoke. I smoke and meditate. I'm not alone.
Her sad hands begin to cut thin slices of lemon for tea like yellow wheels for a very small carriage made for a child's fairy tale. The young officer sitting opposite is buried in the old armchair. He doesn't look at her. He lights u p his cigarette. His hand holding the match trembles, throwing light on his tender chin and the teacup's handle. The clock holds its heartbeat for a moment. Something has been postponed. The moment has gone. It's too late now. Let's drink our tea. Is it possible, then, for death to come in that kind of carriage?