Far in a western brookland

A.E.Housman

1859 to 1936

Poem Image

Far in a western brookland
 That bred me long ago
The poplars stand and tremble
 By pools I used to know.

There, in the windless night-time,
 The wanderer, marvelling why,
Halts on the bridge to hearken
 How soft the poplars sigh.

He hears: long since forgotten
 In fields where I was known,
Here I lie down in London
 And turn to rest alone.

There, by the starlit fences,
 The wanderer halts and hears
My soul that lingers sighing
 About the glimmering weirs.