36 Inspiring Quotes By A. E. Housman For The Verse-Makers
A. E. Housman was a distinguished English classical poet and scholar famous for his cycle of poems, ‘A Shropshire Lad’. His poems were epigrammatic and lyrical in form and revealed the dooms and disappointments of youth in the English countryside. Many early 20
th century English composers were intrigued by the distinctive imaginary appeal, beauty and simplicity of Housman’s thoughts, words and writings. He is considered as one of the august scholars who ever lived and is considered to be the foremost classicists of his age. He was also appointed the Professor Of Latin at ‘University College London’ and then at Cambridge for his quality of work. He established himself as an eminent private scholar. Following is a compilation of thoughts, sayings, opinions and views by A. E. Housman which he expressed through his work, poems and writings on subjects close to his heart. Go through the quotes and sayings by A. E. Housman.
Give me a land of boughs in leaf
A land of trees that stand;
Where trees are fallen there is grief;
I love no leafless land. All knots that lovers tie
Are tied to sever.
Here shall your sweetheart lie,
Untrue for ever. The thoughts of others
Were light and fleeting,
Of lovers' meeting
Or luck or fame.
Mine were of trouble,
And mine were steady;
So I was ready
When trouble came. Who made the world I cannot tell;
'Tis made, and here I am in hell. I, a stranger and afraid
In a world I never made. Stone, steel, dominions pass,
Faith too, no wonder;
So leave alone the grass
That I am under. June suns, you cannot store them
To warm the winter's cold,
The lad that hopes for heaven
Shall fill his mouth with mould. I do not choose the right word, I get rid of the wrong one. Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose,
But young men think it is, and we were young. Perfect understanding will sometimes almost extinguish pleasure. Here dead lie we because we did not choose
To live and shame the land from which we sprung.
Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose;
But young men think it is, and we were young. Lie you easy, dream you light,
And sleep you fast for aye;
And luckier may you find the night
Than ever you found the day. To stand up straight and tread the turning mill,
To lie flat and know nothing and be still,
Are the two trades of man; and which is worse
I know not, but I know that both are ill. Even when poetry has a meaning, as it usually has, it may be inadvisable to draw it out. Perfect understanding will sometimes almost extinguish pleasure. Halt by the headstone naming
The heart no longer stirred,
And say the lad that loved you
Was one that kept his word. In every American there is an air of incorrigible innocence, which seems to conceal a diabolical cunning. The tree of man was never quiet:
Then 'twas the Roman, now 'tis I. He would not stay for me, and who can wonder?
He would not stay for me to stand and gaze.
I shook his hand, and tore my heart in sunder,
And went with half my life about my ways. Nature, not content with denying him the ability to think, has endowed him with the ability to write. The Grizzly Bear is huge and wild;
He has devoured the infant child.
The infant child is not aware
It has been eaten by a bear."
"Infant Innocence Some men are more interesting than their books but my book is more interesting than its man. The troubles of our proud and angry dust are from eternity, and shall not fail. Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose. First don: O cuckoo, shall I call thee bird,
Or but a wandering voice?
Second don: State the alternative preferred,
With reasons for your choice. And malt does more than Milton can/ To justify God's ways to man." - "Terence, This is Stupid Stuff And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. Ale, man, Ale's the stuff to drink,
for fellows whom it hurts to think. ...down in lovely muck I’ve lain,
Happy till I woke again. Oh many a peer of England brews Lovelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man.
Terence, this is stupid stuff:
You eat your victuals fast enough;
There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear,
To see the rate you drink your beer.
There's this to say of love and breath --
They give a man a taste for death.
Tis the old wind in the old anger,
But then it threshed another wood.
Up, lad: thews that lie and cumber
Sunlit pallets never thrive;
Morns abed and daylight slumber
Were not meant for man alive.
The heart from out the bosom
Was never given in vain
But bought with sighs aplenty
And sold for endless rue
And now I am two and twenty
And oh tis true, tis true
To-day I shall be strong,
No more shall yield to wrong,
Shall squander life no more;
Days lost, I know not how,
I shall retrieve them now;
Now I shall keep the vow
I never kept before. Great literature should do some good to the reader: must quicken his perception though dull, and sharpen his discrimination though blunt, and mellow the rawness of his personal opinions.