A A. E. Housman

A. E. Housman

99 şiir · 1859 — 1936

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Here is another of those poets who is generally known by his initials rather than by his full Christian names which were Alfred Edward. Housman is probably best known for his epic work A Shropshire Lad which was a collection of 63 different poems evoking the lost way of life of young men in rural areas towards the end of the 19th century. It was completed in 1900 and one of the lines buried deep within was actually adopted for the James Bond film Die Another Day. The lines are: Housman was born in Worcestershire in March 1859, in a small hamlet called Fockbury which is not too far from Bromsgrove. He was one of seven children and his father was a solicitor. He lost his mother when he was only 12 years old but this did not prevent him from having a good education. He wrote a great deal of poetry while at Bromsgrove School and won a number of awards for it. He studied classics at St John’s College, Oxford and although he achieved a first class in classical Moderations in1879, two years after arriving, he did not go on to pass his finals. It has been said that Housman’s rejection by another male student had some bearing on this. His friend Moses Jackson made it clear he was heterosexual but it did not stop Housman from doting on him. Much later, in his collection called More Poems, there was a poem quite clearly dedicated to Jackson where he makes his feelings quite clear, expressing regret that love can destroy friendships. Here are some lines from it: The simple fact is probably that he just didn’t apply himself to his studies and he left Oxford determined to succeed as a writer and he was responsible for some noted articles on classical authors like Propertius, Euripides and Sophocles. This work contributed to his appointment as a Latin professor at University College London in 1892. His passion though was for the Latin classics rather than Greek and, in 1911, he secured a Professorship of Latin at Trinity College, Cambridge. This appointment raised eyebrows – a student and professor at Oxford obtaining such an eminent post at Cambridge was worthy of comment. This was Housman’s last appointment though and he remained in it for the last twenty five years of his life. He was now an enthusiastic and voracious reviewer and critic of classical authors and only found time to write poetry in his spare time. Unlike other poets who, on the whole, regarded their art as an intellectual exercise, Housman regarded it as something that should appeal to the emotions of the reader. He did not care to talk about it much and it was not until he was 74 years old that he came out in public to deliver a lecture on his poetry. He was very much a private individual and never sought the limelight. Although his great work A Shropshire Lad ensures that he will be remembered as a great English poet he was actually, first and foremost, one of the country’s greatest Classics scholars and was rightly regarded as an authority on the subject. A E Housman died in Cambridge in April 1936 aged 77. After cremation his ashes were interred in the grounds of St Laurence’s Church, Ludlow, in his beloved Shropshire.

  • Poetry
  • A Shropshire Lad (1896)
  • Last Poems (1922)
  • More Poems (1936)
  • Complete Poems (1939)

A. E. Housman şiirleri

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From Clee to heaven the beacon burns, The shires have seen it plain, From north and south the sign returns And beacons burn again. Look left, look right, the hills are bright, The…

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 years and ten, Twenty…

On moonlit heath and lonesome bank The sheep beside me graze; And yon the gallows used to clank Fast by the four cross ways. A careless shepherd once would keep The flock by moonli…

Oh see how thick the goldcup flowers Are lying in field and lane, With dandelions to tell the hours That never are told again.…

When the lad for longing sighs, Mute and dull of cheer and pale, If at death’s own door he lies, Maiden, you can heal his ail. Lovers’ ills are all to buy: The wan look, the hollow…

When smoke stood up from Ludlow, And mist blew off from Teme, And blithe afield to ploughing Against the morning beam I strode beside my team, The blackbird in the coppice Looked o…

‘Farewell to barn and stack and tree, Farewell to Severn shore. Terence, look your last at me, For I come home no more. ‘The sun burns on the half-mown hill, By now the blood is dr…

MARCH The Sun at noon to higher air, Unharnessing the silver Pair That late before his chariot swam, Rides on the gold wool of the Ram. So braver notes the storm-cock sings To star…

On your midnight pallet lying, Listen, and undo the door: Lads that waste the light in sighing In the dark should sigh no more; Night should ease a lover’s sorrow; Therefore, since…

When I watch the living meet, And the moving pageant file Warm and breathing through the street Where I lodge a little while, If the heats of hate and lust In the house of flesh ar…

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 shin…

Others, I am not the first, Have willed more mischief than they durst: If in the breathless night I too Shiver now, ’tis nothing new.…

REVEILLE Wake: the silver dusk returning Up the beach of darkness brims, And the ship of sunrise burning Strands upon the eastern rims. Wake: the vaulted shadow shatters, Trampled…

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