A. E. Housman — The Merry Guide

                  XLII          Once in the wind of morning          I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure          And all the brooks ran gold.          There through the dews beside me          Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead,          And poised a golden rod.          With mien to match the morning          And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter          He looked me in the eyes.          Oh whence, I asked, and whither?          He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned          And laughed and led the way.          And with kind looks and laughter          And nought to say beside We two went on together,          I and my happy guide.          Across the glittering pastures          And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds          High in the folded hill,          By hanging woods and hamlets          That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning          And far-discovered town,          With gay regards of promise          And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken          Led on my merry guide.          By blowing realms of woodland          With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing          About the windy weald,          By valley-guarded granges          And silver waters wide, Content at heart I followed          With my delightful guide.          And like the cloudy shadows          Across the country blown We two face on for ever,          But not we two alone.          With the great gale we journey          That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms          Whose petals throng the wind;          Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper          Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn          Bereaves in all the world.          And midst the fluttering legion          Of all that ever died I follow, and before us          Goes the delightful guide,          With lips that brim with laughter          But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers,          And serpent-circled wand.


Other A. E. Housman songs:
all A. E. Housman songs all songs from 1896