Monday, July 19, 2010
Homely Comforters
A.E. Housman, A Shropshire Lad, XLI:![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9I6Kk_4d5lJ80z-FbJ-nuej_bTat_O6NpLinsd-4jgj3k5IDyQc-ywK4YG8e-t8Qhp5NNeqbmXUEk53mGKxdtHjMyJ9TMJJZK9BoafPEGlVfTh6o0z4UJiVQglwyI9KcYXZNvQw/s400/Bluebells-on-Wenlock-Edge.jpg)
Mark Sadlier, Bluebells on Wenlock Edge, Shropshire
(Photograph from The Guardian, June 7, 2009)
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In my own shire, if I was sad,
Homely comforters I had:
The earth, because my heart was sore,
Sorrowed for the son she bore;
And standing hills, long to remain,
Shared their short-lived comrade's pain.
And bound for the same bourn as I,
On every road I wandered by,
Trod beside me, close and dear,
The beautiful and death-struck year:
Whether in the woodland brown
I heard the beechnut rustle down,
And saw the purple crocus pale
Flower about the autumn dale;
Or littering far the fields of May
Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay,
And like a skylit water stood
The bluebells in the azured wood.
Yonder, lightening other loads,
The seasons range the country roads,
But here in London streets I ken
No such helpmates, only men;
And these are not in plight to bear,
If they would, another's care.
They have enough as 'tis: I see
In many an eye that measures me
The mortal sickness of a mind
Too unhappy to be kind.
Undone with misery, all they can
Is to hate their fellow man;
And till they drop they needs must still
Look at you and wish you ill.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9I6Kk_4d5lJ80z-FbJ-nuej_bTat_O6NpLinsd-4jgj3k5IDyQc-ywK4YG8e-t8Qhp5NNeqbmXUEk53mGKxdtHjMyJ9TMJJZK9BoafPEGlVfTh6o0z4UJiVQglwyI9KcYXZNvQw/s400/Bluebells-on-Wenlock-Edge.jpg)
(Photograph from The Guardian, June 7, 2009)