A Shropshire Lad by A. E. Housman
page 18 of 67 (26%)
page 18 of 67 (26%)
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How idle and alone.
Ah, past the plunge of plummet, In seas I cannot sound, My heart and soul and senses, World without end, are drowned. His folly has not fellow Beneath the blue of day That gives to man or woman His heart and soul away. There flowers no balm to sain him From east of earth to west That's lost for everlasting The heart out of his breast. Here by the labouring highway With empty hands I stroll: Sea-deep, till doomsday morning, Lie lost my heart and soul. XV Look not in my eyes, for fear They mirror true the sight I see, And there you find your face too clear And love it and be lost like me. |
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