A Shropshire Lad by A. E. Housman
page 30 of 67 (44%)
page 30 of 67 (44%)
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I cheer a dead man's sweetheart,
Never ask me whose. XXVIII THE WELSH MARCHES High the vanes of Shrewsbury gleam Islanded in Severn stream; The bridges from the steepled crest Cross the water east and west. The flag of morn in conqueror's state Enters at the English gate: The vanquished eve, as night prevails, Bleeds upon the road to Wales. Ages since the vanquished bled Round my mother's marriage-bed; There the ravens feasted far About the open house of war: When Severn down to Buildwas ran Coloured with the death of man, Couched upon her brother's grave The Saxon got me on the slave. The sound of fight is silent long |
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