Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?
That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.
More verses by Alfred Edward Housman
- From Far, From Eve And Morning
- Is My Team Ploughing
- Terence, This Is Stupid Stuff
- Farewell To Barn And Stack And Tree
- When I Was One-And-Twenty