The True Lover

A.E.Housman

1859 to 1936

Poem Image
Track 1

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Her heart to his she laid;
The throat across from ear to ear
It never goes again.
In shadow of the boughs.
And here upon my bosom prest
When lovers crown their vows.
What is it falling on my lips,
Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock,
Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips
Wet from your neck on mine?
Under the stars the air was light
My lad, that tastes of brine?
You should have felt it then;
When lovers crown their vows,
Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear,
She heard and went and knew not why;
Twill bleed because of it.
For when the knife has slit
The lad came to the door at night,
But since for you I stopped the clock
Before the east is grey.
And you shall be the first and last
When I from hence away am past
So take me in your arms a space
Henceforth, my love, for aye;
The still air of the speechless night,
Light was the air beneath the sky
I ever lay beside.
But dark below the boughs,
I shall not find a bride,
Seems not to rise and fall,
But dark under the shade.
Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast
I shall not vex you with my face
There beats no heart at all?
And whistled soft and out of sight

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