A. E. Housman — Westward on the high-hilled plains

                  LV          Westward on the high-hilled plains          Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins          Frets the changeless blood of man.          Now that other lads than I          Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try,          Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west          And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest          Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine,          Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine          Makes the vow he will not keep.