A Shropshire Lad Part 3

And round that early-laurelled head Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead, And find unwithered on its curls The garland briefer than a girl's.

XX

Oh fair enough are sky and plain, But I know fairer far: Those are as beautiful again That in the water are;

The pools and rivers wash so clean The trees and clouds and air, The like on earth was never seen, And oh that I were there.

These are the thoughts I often think As I stand gazing down In act upon the cressy brink To strip and dive and drown;

But in the golden-sanded brooks And azure meres I spy A silly lad that longs and looks And wishes he were I.

XXI

BREDON HILL (1)

In summertime on Bredon The bells they sound so clear; Round both the s.h.i.+res they ring them In steeples far and near, A happy noise to hear.

Here of a Sunday morning My love and I would lie And see the coloured counties, And hear the larks so high About us in the sky.

The bells would ring to call her In valleys miles away: "Come all to church, good people; Good people, come and pray."

But here my love would stay.

And I would turn and answer Among the springing thyme, "Oh, peal upon our wedding, And we will hear the chime, And come to church in time."

But when the snows at Christmas On Bredon top were strown, My love rose up so early And stole out unbeknown And went to church alone.

They tolled the one bell only, Groom there was none to see, The mourners followed after, And so to church went she, And would not wait for me.

The bells they sound on Bredon, And still the steeples hum.

"Come all to church, good people,"- Oh, noisy bells, be dumb; I hear you, I will come.

(1) p.r.o.nounced Breedon.

XXII

The street sounds to the soldiers' tread, And out we troop to see: A single redcoat turns his head, He turns and looks at me.

My man, from sky to sky's so far, We never crossed before; Such leagues apart the world's ends are, We're like to meet no more;

What thoughts at heart have you and I We cannot stop to tell; But dead or living, drunk or dry, Soldier, I wish you well.

XXIII

The lads in their hundreds to Ludlow come in for the fair, There's men from the barn and the forge and the mill and the fold, The lads for the girls and the lads for the liquor are there, And there with the rest are the lads that will never be old.

There's chaps from the town and the field and the till and the cart, And many to count are the stalwart, and many the brave, And many the handsome of face and the handsome of heart, And few that will carry their looks or their truth to the grave.

I wish one could know them, I wish there were tokens to tell The fortunate fellows that now you can never discern; And then one could talk with them friendly and wish them farewell And watch them depart on the way that they will not return.

But now you may stare as you like and there's nothing to scan; And brus.h.i.+ng your elbow unguessed-at and not to be told They carry back bright to the coiner the mintage of man, The lads that will die in their glory and never be old.

XXIV

Say, lad, have you things to do?

Quick then, while your day's at prime.

Quick, and if 'tis work for two, Here am I, man: now's your time.

Send me now, and I shall go; Call me, I shall hear you call; Use me ere they lay me low Where a man's no use at all;

Ere the wholesome flesh decay, And the willing nerve be numb, And the lips lack breath to say, "No, my lad, I cannot come."

XXV

This time of year a twelvemonth past, When Fred and I would meet, We needs must jangle, till at last We fought and I was beat.

So then the summer fields about, Till rainy days began, Rose Harland on her Sundays out Walked with the better man.

The better man she walks with still, Though now 'tis not with Fred: A lad that lives and has his will Is worth a dozen dead.

Fred keeps the house all kinds of weather, And clay's the house he keeps; When Rose and I walk out together Stock-still lies Fred and sleeps.

XXVI

Along the fields as we came by A year ago, my love and I, The aspen over stile and stone Was talking to itself alone.

"Oh who are these that kiss and pa.s.s?

A country lover and his la.s.s; Two lovers looking to be wed; And time shall put them both to bed, But she shall lie with earth above, And he beside another love."

And sure enough beneath the tree There walks another love with me, And overhead the aspen heaves Its rainy-sounding silver leaves; And I spell nothing in their stir, But now perhaps they speak to her, And plain for her to understand They talk about a time at hand When I shall sleep with clover clad, And she beside another lad.

XXVII