Skip to content
Linespedia

Poems From "A Shropshire Lad" - LII

Topics: classic

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.

AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.

About this line

"Far in a western brookland..."

This evocative piece by Alfred Edward Housman, titled "Poems From "A Shropshire Lad" - LII", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...

Classified Tags

Related lines

"On moonlit heath and lonesome bank     The sheep beside me graze;     And yon the gallows used to clank     Fast by the four cross ways."

"From Clee to heaven the beacon burns,     The shires have seen it plain,     From north and south the sign returns     And beacons burn again."

"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"

"The sigh that heaves the grasses     Whence thou wilt never rise     Is of the air that passes     And knows not if it sighs.     The diamond"

"Here morning in the ploughman's songs is met     Ere yet one footstep shows in all the sky,     And twilight in the east, a doubt as yet,     S"

"The Text is taken from Percy's Reliques (1765), vol. i. p. 71, 'given from two MS. copies, transmitted from Scotland.' Herd had a very similar bal"

Continue Reading

"On moonlit heath and lonesome bank     The sheep b..."

Weekly Poetic Insight

Join our literary Sanctuary

Get the most inspiring lines, poetic analysis, and secret shayaris delivered to your inbox every Sunday.