Good creatures, do you love your lives
And have you ears for sense?
Here is a knife like other knives,
That cost me eighteen pence.
I need but stick it in my heart
And down will come the sky,
And earth's foundations will depart
And all you folk will die.
More verses by Alfred Edward Housman
- Xvii: The Stars Have Not Dealt Me The Worst They Could Do
- Xxxix: Tis Time, I Think, By Wenlock Town
- Hell's Gate
- Her Strong Enchantments Failing
- Soldier from the wars returning