Today I heard A.E. Housman's A Shropshire Lad, part XL quoted. It was very... heartfelt.
Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?
That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.
I really like Housman's work. (Photograph, right, by E.O. Hoppe.)
I'm familiar with it because of high school. We read To An Athlete Dying Young, which I really loved, partially because of the imagery that Housman used and partially because of how sad it is:
Today, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.
Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?
That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.
I really like Housman's work. (Photograph, right, by E.O. Hoppe.)
I'm familiar with it because of high school. We read To An Athlete Dying Young, which I really loved, partially because of the imagery that Housman used and partially because of how sad it is:
Today, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.
