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The Collected Poems of A.E. Housman (2 poetry collections with an active Table of Contents)

The Collected Poems of A.E. Housman (2 poetry collections with an active Table of Contents)

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This volume constitutes the authorized canon of A.E. Housman's verse as it was established in 1939, three years after his death. In contains A Shropshire Lad, Last Poems, More Poems, the Additional Poems, and the three translations from A.W. Pollard's anthology, Odes from the Greek Dramatists. This volume constitutes the authorized canon of A.E. Housman's verse as it was established in 1939, three years after his death. In contains A Shropshire Lad, Last Poems, More Poems, the Additional Poems, and the three translations from A.W. Pollard's anthology, Odes from the Greek Dramatists.

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This volume constitutes the authorized canon of A.E. Housman's verse as it was established in 1939, three years after his death. In contains A Shropshire Lad, Last Poems, More Poems, the Additional Poems, and the three translations from A.W. Pollard's anthology, Odes from the Greek Dramatists. This volume constitutes the authorized canon of A.E. Housman's verse as it was established in 1939, three years after his death. In contains A Shropshire Lad, Last Poems, More Poems, the Additional Poems, and the three translations from A.W. Pollard's anthology, Odes from the Greek Dramatists.

30 review for The Collected Poems of A.E. Housman (2 poetry collections with an active Table of Contents)

4 out of 5

E. G. – Aug 10, 2016

Introduction, by Nick Laird --A Shropshire Lad Last Poems --I. The West --II. 'As I gird on for fighting . . .' --III. 'Her strong enchantments failing . . .' --IV. Illic Jacet --V. Grenadier --VI. Lancer --VII. 'In valleys green and still . . .' --VIII. 'Soldier from the wars returning . . .' --IX. 'The chestnut casts his flambeaux, and the flowers . . .' --X. 'Could man be drunk for ever . . .' --XI. 'Yonder see the morning blink . . .' --XII. 'The laws of God, the laws of man . . .' --XIII. The Deserter --XI Introduction, by Nick Laird --A Shropshire Lad Last Poems --I. The West --II. 'As I gird on for fighting . . .' --III. 'Her strong enchantments failing . . .' --IV. Illic Jacet --V. Grenadier --VI. Lancer --VII. 'In valleys green and still . . .' --VIII. 'Soldier from the wars returning . . .' --IX. 'The chestnut casts his flambeaux, and the flowers . . .' --X. 'Could man be drunk for ever . . .' --XI. 'Yonder see the morning blink . . .' --XII. 'The laws of God, the laws of man . . .' --XIII. The Deserter --XIV. The Culprit --XV. Eight O'Clock --XVI. Spring Morning --XVII. Astronomy --XVIII. 'The rain, it streams on stone and hillock . . .' --XIX. 'In midnights of November . . .' --XX. 'The night is freezing fast . . .' --XXI. 'The fairies break their dances . . .' --XXII. 'The sloe was lost in flower . . .' --XXIII. 'In the morning, in the morning . . .' --XXIV. Epithalamium --XXV. The Oracles --XXVI. 'The half-moon westers low, my love . . .' --XXVII. 'The sigh that heaves the grasses . . .' --XXVIII. 'Now dreary dawns the eastern light . . .' --XXIX. 'Wake not for the world-heard thunder . . .' --XXX. Sinner's Rue --XXXI. Hell Gate --XXXII. 'When I would muse in boyhood . . .' --XXXIII. 'When the eye of day is shut . . .' --XXXIV. The First of May --XXXV. 'When first my way to fair I took . . .' --XXXVI. Revolution --XXXVII. Epitaph on an Army of Mercenaries --XXXVIII. 'Oh stay at home, my lad, and plough . . .' --XXXIX. 'When summer's end is nighing . . .' --XL. 'Tell me not here, it needs not saying . . .' --XLI. Fancy's Knell More Poems --I. Easter Hymn --II. 'When Israel out of Egypt came . . .' --III. 'For these of old the trader . . .' --IV. The Sage to the Young Man --V. Diffugere Nives --VI. 'I to my perils . . .' --VII. 'Stars, I have seen them fall . . .' --VIIIA. 'Give me a land of boughs in leaf . . .' --VIIIB. 'Alas, the country whence I fare . . .' --VIIIC. 'And one remembers, and one forgets . . .' --IX. 'When green buds hang in the elm like dust . . .' --X. 'The weeping Pleiads wester . . .' --XI. 'The rainy Pleiads wester . . .' --XII. 'I promise nothing: friends will part . . .' --XIII. 'I lay me down and slumber . . .' --XIV. 'The farms of home lie lost in even . . .' --XV. 'Tarry, delight; so seldom met . . .' --XVI. 'How clear, how lovely bright . . .' --XVII. 'Bells in tower at evening toll . . .' --XVIII. 'Delight it is in youth and May . . .' --XIX. 'The mill-stream, now that noises cease . . .' --XX. 'Like mine, the veins of these that slumber . . .' --XXI. 'The world goes none the lamer . . .' --XXII. 'Ho, everyone that thirsteth . . .' --XXIII. 'Crossing alone the nighted ferry . . .' --XXIV. 'Stone, steel, dominions pass . . .' --XXV. 'Yon flakes that fret the eastern sky . . .' --XXVI. I Counsel You Beware --XXVII. 'To stand up straight and tread the turning mill . . .' --XXVIII. 'He, standing hushed, a pace or two apart . . .' --XXIX. 'From the wash the laundress sends . . .' --XXX. 'Shake hands, we shall never be friends; give over . . .' --XXXI. 'Because I liked you better . . .' --XXXII. 'Their seed the sowers scatter . . .' --XXXIII. 'On forelands high in heaven . . .' --XXXIV. 'Young is the blood that yonder . . .' --XXXV. 'Half-way, for one commandment broken . . .' --XXXVI. 'Here dead lie we because we did not choose . . .' --XXXVII. 'I did not lose my heart in summer's even . . .' --XXXVIII. 'By shores and woods and steeples . . .' --XXXIX. 'My dreams are of a field afar . . .' --XL. 'Farewell to a name and a number . . .' --XLI. 'He looked at me with eyes I thought . . .' --XLII. A. J. J. --XLIII. 'I wake from dreams and turning . . .' --XLIV. 'Far known to sea and shore . . .' --XLV. 'Smooth between sea and land . . .' --XLVI. The Land of Biscay --XLVII. 'O thou that from thy mansion . . .' --XLVIII. Parta Quies Additional Poems --I. Atys --II. 'Oh were he and I together . . .' --III. 'When Adam walked in Eden young . . .' --IV. 'It is no gift I tender . . .' --V. 'Here are the skies, the planets seven . . .' --VI. 'Ask me no more, for fear I should reply . . .' --VII. 'He would not stay for me; and who can wonder . . .' --VIII. 'Now to her lap the incestuous earth . . .' --IX. 'When the bells justle in the tower . . .' --X. 'Oh on my breast in days hereafter . . .' --XI. 'Morning up the eastern stair . . .' --XIA. '---They shall have breath that never were . . .' --XII. 'Stay, if you list, O passer by the way . . .' --XIII. 'Oh turn not in from marching . . .' --XIV. 'Oh is it the jar of nations . . .' --XV. 'Tis five years since, 'An end,' said I . . .' --XVI. 'Some can gaze and not be sick . . .' --XVII. 'The stars have not dealt me the worst they could do . . .' --XVIII. 'Oh who is that young sinner with the handcuffs on his wrists . . .' --XIX. The Defeated --XX. 'I shall not die for you . . .' --XXI. New Year's Eve --XXII. R. L. S. --XXIII. The Olive Translations --Aeschylus, 'Septem Contra Thebas' (lines 848-60) --Sophocles, 'Oedipus Coloneus' (lines 1211-48) --Euripides, 'Alcestis' (lines 962-1005) Appendix: The Name and Nature of Poetry: The Leslie Stephen Lecture, Delivered by A. E. Housman at Cambridge on 9 May 1933 Notes on the Text Index of First Lines Index of Titled Poems
4 out of 5

Emily – Nov 17, 2007

One of my favorites: XVI How clear, how lovely bright How beautiful to sight Those beams of morning play; How heaven laughs out with glee Where, like a bird set free, Up from the eastern sea Soars the delightful day. 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. Ensanguining the skies How heavily it dies Into the west away; Past touch and sight and sound Not further to be f One of my favorites: XVI How clear, how lovely bright How beautiful to sight Those beams of morning play; How heaven laughs out with glee Where, like a bird set free, Up from the eastern sea Soars the delightful day. 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. Ensanguining the skies How heavily it dies Into the west away; Past touch and sight and sound Not further to be found How hopeless underground Falls the remorseful day.
5 out of 5

James – Jul 09, 2011

Forgive the format but I couldn't resist: I read this collection Whilst suffering the heat Of another year's vacation And found the writer neat. While maudlin and morose, Houseman's depiction of youthful love As naive, beautiful and verbose Fit my memories of it like a glove. Forgive the format but I couldn't resist: I read this collection Whilst suffering the heat Of another year's vacation And found the writer neat. While maudlin and morose, Houseman's depiction of youthful love As naive, beautiful and verbose Fit my memories of it like a glove.
4 out of 5

Omar – Feb 01, 2022

https://youtu.be/BHoAQW_DBI4?t=158 As an adolescent, I could not see the value of my mother teaching me to recite verses of the Quran in Classical Arabic. Like the audience and other panelists, I felt it was a waste of time, with no real-world application. Only in recent years have I seen the value of my mother's effort. I would have avoided poetry for far too long had it not been for Peter Hitchens. Thanks to this segment, which I had watched years prior, I gave Chinese Poetry as translated by Wa https://youtu.be/BHoAQW_DBI4?t=158 As an adolescent, I could not see the value of my mother teaching me to recite verses of the Quran in Classical Arabic. Like the audience and other panelists, I felt it was a waste of time, with no real-world application. Only in recent years have I seen the value of my mother's effort. I would have avoided poetry for far too long had it not been for Peter Hitchens. Thanks to this segment, which I had watched years prior, I gave Chinese Poetry as translated by Waley a chance towards the end of 2020. The experience was a positive one, to the point that I have gradually incorporated poetry into my yearly readings. Therefore, I felt it only right to return to the poet Hitchens quoted in the video above. I can't express sufficient gratitude to my mother and Peter for furnishing my mind with beauty.
5 out of 5

Ivan – Nov 26, 2009

Unrequited love and youthful death are the author's recurrent themes. Always forthright and devoid of the esoteric and modernistic qualities of more revered poets, Housman's work, though imbued with a pronounced melancholy, is never strident or sanctimonious. It is through the symmetry of theme that Housman achieves the solemnity which lends these justly celebrated poems their stature. I feel that any discussion of A. E. Housman's poetry should first acknowledge that he was never a poet in the sa Unrequited love and youthful death are the author's recurrent themes. Always forthright and devoid of the esoteric and modernistic qualities of more revered poets, Housman's work, though imbued with a pronounced melancholy, is never strident or sanctimonious. It is through the symmetry of theme that Housman achieves the solemnity which lends these justly celebrated poems their stature. I feel that any discussion of A. E. Housman's poetry should first acknowledge that he was never a poet in the same sense as Whitman, Auden or Ginsberg. he was first, and foremost, a scholar, the Chair of Latin at Cambridge and an academic legend. Thus it seems churlish for his detractors to take the rather meagre amount of poetry he produced and deride it for it's lack of thematic multiplicity. A closeted homosexual, Housman's poetry is perhaps most distinctive for it allusive qualities. One revels in the allegorical poem XVIII from Additional Poems: "Oh they're taking him to prison for the colour of his hair." Perhaps my favorite in this collection full of favorites is XXXI from More Poems: "Because I liked you better Than suits a man to say, It irked you, and I promised To throw the thought away. To put the world between us We parted, stiff and dry; 'Good-bye', said you, 'forget me.' 'I will, no fear' said I. If here, where clover whitens The dead man's knoll, you pass, And no tall flower to meet you Starts in the trefoiled grass, Halt by the headstone naming The heart no longer stirred, And say the lad that loved you Was one that kept his word." Haunting. First rate. A masterful collection.
5 out of 5

Bryn Hammond – Mar 22, 2014

I have loved, do love and shall love Housman. Way out of fashion, like my other young love Swinburne. I spent more time with them than with those thought better poets, early in life, and have no regrets. It's true the alt sexuality helped in both cases. Perhaps I can liken Housman to the lyrics of The Smiths. I think I can. I have loved, do love and shall love Housman. Way out of fashion, like my other young love Swinburne. I spent more time with them than with those thought better poets, early in life, and have no regrets. It's true the alt sexuality helped in both cases. Perhaps I can liken Housman to the lyrics of The Smiths. I think I can.
4 out of 5

Rhys – Jan 22, 2019

My favourite ever book of poems. However, there are actually four books of poems collected in this one volume and they are not of equal quality. In fact the quality declines. This is because the final two books were posthumous collections put together by Housman's brother and it is highly unlikely that Housman himself would have approved of this. Nonetheless the strength of the first two books A Shropshire Lad and Last Poems is such that it doesn't matter that the posthumous collections are weak My favourite ever book of poems. However, there are actually four books of poems collected in this one volume and they are not of equal quality. In fact the quality declines. This is because the final two books were posthumous collections put together by Housman's brother and it is highly unlikely that Housman himself would have approved of this. Nonetheless the strength of the first two books A Shropshire Lad and Last Poems is such that it doesn't matter that the posthumous collections are weaker. If anything the weaker books set the former two in context and show just how brilliant the earlier books are. Having said this, there are still truly excellent poems to be found in the two posthumous books. As for A Shropshire Lad I avoided it and Housman for years because (for some strange reason) I assumed it was going to be dull, flowery and typically Victorian. It isn't. Far from it! The lyricism of these incredibly concise and refined poems is as extraordinary and moving as the poems in what was previously my favourite poetry collection of all time (FitzGerald's translation of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam) but their range is greater, although still focused mainly on a specific set of very important themes, namely longing, the passing of time, impossible love, transience, honour and friendship. Housman has successfully achieved what is the ultimate aim of the very best poetry. To take an emotion and transfer it directly (or almost directly) into the mind and heart of a reader. This is an act akin to telepathy. For whole moments at a time we are sharing Housman's feelings so perfectly that we are him and also everyone else who has ever had that emotion. It's a phenomenon of human community and continuity that bypasses the usual constraints of time and space. I read books and then I give them away to other people who I think might enjoy them. It's very rare that I keep books I have read. Only a handful of books fall into this category. This book will be one of those. I will keep it, cherish it and no doubt consult it from time to time, replaying the magnificent rhythms of his superb poetry, probably until I know many of the poems by heart.
5 out of 5

Gui – Aug 30, 2014

To an Athlete Dying Young The time you won your town the race We chaired you through the market-place; Man and boy stood cheering by, And home we brought you shoulder-high. Today, the road all runners come, Shoulder-high we bring you home, And set you at your threshold down, Townsman of a stiller town. This is one of my favorite poems in this collection. I like it so much that I can't see how any lover of poetry could fail to respond to it. To an Athlete Dying Young The time you won your town the race We chaired you through the market-place; Man and boy stood cheering by, And home we brought you shoulder-high. Today, the road all runners come, Shoulder-high we bring you home, And set you at your threshold down, Townsman of a stiller town. This is one of my favorite poems in this collection. I like it so much that I can't see how any lover of poetry could fail to respond to it.
5 out of 5

Meg – Sep 24, 2007

favorite poem Untitled by A.E. Housman I to my perils Of cheat and charmer Came clad in armour By stars benign. Hope lies to mortals And most believe her, But man’s deceiver Was never mine. 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.
5 out of 5

DoctorM – Nov 24, 2010

Yes, I know. How dreadfully unfashionable! And yet... I've loved Housman's poetry since high school. I love his pastiches of both Sappho and the Greek Anthology, I love the clear-eyed and Stoic sense of fate and loss, I love the crisp precision. This is a volume I've had on my shelves since I was sixteen--- replaced over and over. And it'll always be a favourite. Yes, I know. How dreadfully unfashionable! And yet... I've loved Housman's poetry since high school. I love his pastiches of both Sappho and the Greek Anthology, I love the clear-eyed and Stoic sense of fate and loss, I love the crisp precision. This is a volume I've had on my shelves since I was sixteen--- replaced over and over. And it'll always be a favourite.
5 out of 5

Colleen McDonnell – Jul 22, 2018

A perfect collection of AEH's poems. I still have the copy my sister bought for me 25 years ago. A perfect collection of AEH's poems. I still have the copy my sister bought for me 25 years ago.
4 out of 5

Lenny Husen – Mar 11, 2019

Finished this morning, Yay! Ah, that Housman. I picked up this book in a used bookstore because of his best poem, simply titled "Poem II" in A Shropshire Lad, which I was familiar with as it is a beautiful poem and someone I admired, Dr. Wolfe Blotzer, recited it once in my presence from memory and I chimed in at the last stanza: "Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough, And stands about the woodland ride Wearing white for Eastertide Now, of my threescore and ten, Twenty w Finished this morning, Yay! Ah, that Housman. I picked up this book in a used bookstore because of his best poem, simply titled "Poem II" in A Shropshire Lad, which I was familiar with as it is a beautiful poem and someone I admired, Dr. Wolfe Blotzer, recited it once in my presence from memory and I chimed in at the last stanza: "Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough, And stands about the woodland ride Wearing white for Eastertide Now, of my threescore and ten, Twenty will not come again, And take from seventy springs a score, It only leaves me fifty more. And since to look at things in bloom Fifty springs are little room, About the woodlands I will go To see the cherry hung with snow." So I presumed Housman's other poetry would be lyrical, with lovely images and hopes for the future and a "making the best" of nature and weather and time. Alas, I was mistaken. Pretty much ALL the other poems are about death, and dead soldiers, and suicide, and more death, and depression, and wishing-I-were-dead-but-sadly-I-have-to-live-my-sucky-life, and "poems to be read in a Cemetery whilst standing in front of a Headstone" and "poems to be read at a Funeral" and still more death, and hopelessness, and despair, and pointlessness. The pointlessness of war, of life, of death, of youth, of love. There were at least three poems about "I am far away from The Shire and am in the cold city of London and it totally bites here" and at least two about "I killed someone and now I am going to hang" and a few about "so because the other guy is dead I now have his girl how lucky for me but not so lucky for him ha ha." There are many many poems about "War is Hell and Bullshit and all my friends are dead and I miss them so much but there is nothing to be done, they are better off dead because all of life is stupid." Housman was an Atheist who did not believe in an Afterlife, so his poems contain a university of corpses rotting in endless eternity, mouldering in the charnel under the darnel. Not being an Atheist or particularly depressed, there were few poems that interested me of the hundreds in this tome. He was also homosexual which was good because it inspired him to write a few poems that I could relate to, regarding unrequited love. Even "The Loveliest of Trees", the poem above, is actually about Death, but I guess he got laid the day he wrote it or something else good happened to him to lighten his despair, or maybe he was interrupted before he could write his usual downer final stanza. It is a testament to my determination that I actually read every poem, many out loud. In his defense, Housman was an extremely intelligent, talented scholar, and some of the poems are very clever and scan well. Most of them rhyme perfectly. Who would like these poems? Hard to imagine anyone "liking" these poems. If you are a suicidally depressed Atheist, these poems are meant for you! Enjoy! P.S. In the interest of complete fairness: Today, I finally found a second poem I really liked, that was NOT, for once, about Death without hope for Resurrection. Still gloomy, not cheerful, not hopeful, but regardless, the ironic tone made me laugh out loud. I think it is about Homophobia (perhaps even about Oscar Wilde), but it could just as easily be about Racism or Ableism or Fat Shaming. It is great! Here you go: Additional Poems Number XVIII "Oh who is that young sinner with the handcuffs on his wrists? And what has he been after that they groan and shake their fists? And wherefore is he wearing such a conscience-stricken air? Oh they're taking him to prison for the colour of his hair. 'Tis a shame to human nature, such a head of hair as his; In the good old time 'twas hanging for the colour that it is; Though hanging isn't bad enough and flaying would be fair For the nameless and abominable colour of his hair. Oh a deal of pains he's taken and a pretty price he's paid To hide his poll or dye it of a mentionable shade; But they've pulled the beggar's hat off for the world to see and stare, And they're haling him to justice for the colour of his hair. Now 'tis oakum for his fingers and the treadmill for his feet, And the quarry-gang on Portland in the cold and in the heat, And between his spells of labour in the time he has to spare He can curse the God that made him for the colour of his hair." Hats off to A.E. Housman, 1859 to 1936
5 out of 5

Erica Hopper – Jan 08, 2019

I will likely remember this book for a number of reasons, none of which align. It's the book I read instead of watching the presidential address regarding the 2019 government shutdown/wall funding, because as a federal contractor facing our household losing half its income, I'm too enraged to watch such drivel. This book, its poems, was all the more pleasurable and stimulating. It's also the book I received from a dear friend who loves it so much that it makes me love it too. Her post its indica I will likely remember this book for a number of reasons, none of which align. It's the book I read instead of watching the presidential address regarding the 2019 government shutdown/wall funding, because as a federal contractor facing our household losing half its income, I'm too enraged to watch such drivel. This book, its poems, was all the more pleasurable and stimulating. It's also the book I received from a dear friend who loves it so much that it makes me love it too. Her post its indicating favorite poems made it all the more pleasurable and I think I may adopt the habit with my own favorite book of poems and send along copies with little notes within in the future. It's also the first book I completed in the new year. By far, my favorite poem was The Merry Guide followed by Easter Hymn. Often when I read poetry I'll read it quietly or occasionally murmur the verbiage but with these two I returned to the poem after my initial read through and read them out loud not once, but twice, and I've gone back to them since. It's always such a pleasure to discover new-to-me poets and even all the better that it was a discovery through love and appreciation from one book worm to another. I think the very emotion behind my ownership of the book made me like it all the more and I'm glad to have read it; I've come away feeling more well rounded, which is generally a goal of mine when reading poetry.
4 out of 5

James F – Sep 09, 2019

Having just read Tom Stoppard's The Invention of Love, a play based on the life of A.E. Housman, I decided to read his poems. The most famous collection, of course, is A Shropshire Lad; the other parts are titled, imaginatively, Last Poems, More Poems and Additional Poems. I have to admit, Housman will not ever be my favorite poet. The poems are all rather the same, short poems about young men who died, some as soldiers, some by suicide, some hanged, etc. and are lying about under the ground bei Having just read Tom Stoppard's The Invention of Love, a play based on the life of A.E. Housman, I decided to read his poems. The most famous collection, of course, is A Shropshire Lad; the other parts are titled, imaginatively, Last Poems, More Poems and Additional Poems. I have to admit, Housman will not ever be my favorite poet. The poems are all rather the same, short poems about young men who died, some as soldiers, some by suicide, some hanged, etc. and are lying about under the ground being dead and reciting poems about it. They all have simple rhyme schemes, ABAB CDCD or AABB CCDD, and many of them seem to have the sentence order inverted or all twisted about to get the rhyme words at the end of the lines. There are a few memorable lines, and some of the poems have classical allusions -- Housman was really more of a scholar than a poet, but I was not impressed in general.
5 out of 5

Richard Thomas – Nov 27, 2014

Wonderful lyrical poetry which has so many memorable lines. These are often very dark with an underlying theme of tragedy and death. Housman's sexuality underlies much of his verse but setting this aside, the poems are great literature. I might allow that I know the country quite well, having lived there for 10 years and this certainly adds to the joy of reading his collection. I have not entered a finish date because I never will finish the book. Wonderful lyrical poetry which has so many memorable lines. These are often very dark with an underlying theme of tragedy and death. Housman's sexuality underlies much of his verse but setting this aside, the poems are great literature. I might allow that I know the country quite well, having lived there for 10 years and this certainly adds to the joy of reading his collection. I have not entered a finish date because I never will finish the book.
5 out of 5

Matt Lewis – Jan 01, 2017

Marvellous. Not all poems in here are as good as each other—this is to be expected in a near exhaustive collection—but when Housman writes well, he writes well indeed. There is a faint melancholy that fills his poetry, but which is rarely overstated. His nostalgic poems on loss in war are often the best.
4 out of 5

SkittishElf – Jan 03, 2017

He words my thoughts far better than I can think them.
5 out of 5

Denise – Aug 31, 2020

Enjoyable but the best part is his essay about poetry, absolutely british and erudite!
5 out of 5

Greg – Sep 18, 2017

This is a fine collection of Housman’s poems. Housman is both musical and sad. Like the great, modern, sad song-writers, Housman’s poems put the reader into a state of appreciative melancholy. My 3 favorites in the collection are representative of this. All in all, highly recommended. From “Last Poems – IX” Iniquity it is; but pass the can. My lad, no pair of kings our mothers bore; Our only portion is the estate of man: We want the moon, but we shall get no more. “Additional Poems – V” Here are the This is a fine collection of Housman’s poems. Housman is both musical and sad. Like the great, modern, sad song-writers, Housman’s poems put the reader into a state of appreciative melancholy. My 3 favorites in the collection are representative of this. All in all, highly recommended. From “Last Poems – IX” Iniquity it is; but pass the can. My lad, no pair of kings our mothers bore; Our only portion is the estate of man: We want the moon, but we shall get no more. “Additional Poems – V” Here are the skies, the planets seven, And all the starry train: Content you with the mimic heaven, And on the earth remain. “Additional Poems – X” Oh on my breast in days hereafter Light the earth should lie, Such weight to bear is now the air, So heavy hangs the sky. See my other reviews here!
5 out of 5

Toby – Dec 30, 2018

It shows my ignorance of Housman that until I started reading this I thought that A Shropshire Lad was one lengthy poem rather than a collection of much shorter ballads. My favourite poem was the second (Loveliest of trees, the cherry now/Is hung with bloom along the bough). Shortly after this Housman's unvarying style began to weary somewhat, though the greater variety in his subject matter did keep my interest up. His poems favouring suicide now seem in very poor taste, but I suppose were of h It shows my ignorance of Housman that until I started reading this I thought that A Shropshire Lad was one lengthy poem rather than a collection of much shorter ballads. My favourite poem was the second (Loveliest of trees, the cherry now/Is hung with bloom along the bough). Shortly after this Housman's unvarying style began to weary somewhat, though the greater variety in his subject matter did keep my interest up. His poems favouring suicide now seem in very poor taste, but I suppose were of his time. Others have borne their years better, especially, I suppose, if you live and love Shropshire.
5 out of 5

Katy – Jan 28, 2018

I can see why he is loved, and maybe when i re-read this book I will be in a melancholic state so I can identify with him. Two poems really caught my attention though, and for that I am grateful I read it. And, as he says: "They say my narrow verse is sad: no wonder, Its narrow measure spans Tears of eternity, and sorrow, Not mine, but Man's. This is for all ill-treated fellows Unborn and unbegot, For them to read when they're in trouble And I am not." I can see why he is loved, and maybe when i re-read this book I will be in a melancholic state so I can identify with him. Two poems really caught my attention though, and for that I am grateful I read it. And, as he says: "They say my narrow verse is sad: no wonder, Its narrow measure spans Tears of eternity, and sorrow, Not mine, but Man's. This is for all ill-treated fellows Unborn and unbegot, For them to read when they're in trouble And I am not."
4 out of 5

Michael – Feb 24, 2021

Of course I love this book - Housman was the first English poet I came across some twenty years ago. For me, everything started with "I, a stranger and afraid, in a world I never made" and only went uphill from there. This book is especially valuable as it combines all the poet's verse and even adds some of his speeches and essays on poetry. Of course I love this book - Housman was the first English poet I came across some twenty years ago. For me, everything started with "I, a stranger and afraid, in a world I never made" and only went uphill from there. This book is especially valuable as it combines all the poet's verse and even adds some of his speeches and essays on poetry.
5 out of 5

Haniya – Oct 25, 2018

This was my first encounter with Housman, and I must say it was a pleasure to come across his writing. He reminds me of Poe, sans the Victorian flare. Here is one of the many I adored: 𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘧𝘢𝘳, 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦-𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘬𝘺, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘉𝘭𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳: 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘮 𝘐. 𝘕𝘰𝘸 - 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘐 𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘕𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 - 𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦, 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵. 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳; 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘐 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘴𝘢𝘺; 𝘌𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥'𝘴 𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘐 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 This was my first encounter with Housman, and I must say it was a pleasure to come across his writing. He reminds me of Poe, sans the Victorian flare. Here is one of the many I adored: 𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘧𝘢𝘳, 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦-𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘬𝘺, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘉𝘭𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳: 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘮 𝘐. 𝘕𝘰𝘸 - 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘐 𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘕𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 - 𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦, 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵. 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳; 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘐 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘴𝘢𝘺; 𝘌𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥'𝘴 𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘐 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺.
4 out of 5

Francesca Di Lorenzo – May 08, 2020

Unrequited love, death, companionship, a quiet and steady desire for something that has never happened nor will happen in the future mixed with a witty humour. I've grown to like Housman poems, even more than I was expecting. Unrequited love, death, companionship, a quiet and steady desire for something that has never happened nor will happen in the future mixed with a witty humour. I've grown to like Housman poems, even more than I was expecting.
5 out of 5

Theron Arnold – Jun 13, 2018

Solid.
4 out of 5

Jonathan – Mar 14, 2019

He is considered one of the lesser poets but i think it's great He is considered one of the lesser poets but i think it's great
4 out of 5

Ron – May 23, 2019

Every once in a while I enjoy pulling out poetry.
5 out of 5

Angel – Aug 09, 2019

There's one or two poems I like, but mostly I'm not interested in the pastoral scenes. There's one or two poems I like, but mostly I'm not interested in the pastoral scenes.
5 out of 5

Faith Rush – Jun 25, 2020

Feeling like a macabre yet pastoral reflection on the transience of life in poetic meter? Look no further!
4 out of 5

Leah Hart – Jun 08, 2021

Got this from my grandad and it was such a pleasant reading experience.

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