First Lines
Along the field as we came by
As through the wild green hills of Wyre
Be still, my soul, be still

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
High the vanes of Shrewsbury gleam

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
Lads in their hundreds
Leave your home behind
Loitering with a vacant eye
Look not in my eyes
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, 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

Others, I am not the first
Say, lad, have you things to do?
Star-filled seas are smooth to-night
Streets sound to the soldiers’ tread
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
’Tis spring; come out to ramble
’Tis time, I think

Vane on Hughley steeple
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
You smile upon your friend to-day

AE Housman