With rue my heart is laden
For golden friends I had,
For many a rose-lipt maiden
And many a lightfoot lad.
By brooks too broad for leaping
The lightfoot boys are laid;
The rose-lipt girls are sleeping
In fields where roses fade.
More verses by Alfred Edward Housman
- Eight O'Clock
- Into My Heart An Air That Kills
- From Far, From Eve And Morning
- Is My Team Ploughing
- Terence, This Is Stupid Stuff