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English Poetry. Alfred Edward Housman. A Shropshire Lad. 47. The Carpenter’s Son. Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен).






Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен))

A Shropshire Lad. 47. The Carpenter’s Son

"Here the hangman stops his cart:
Now the best of friends must part.
Fare you well, for ill fare I:
Live, lads, and I will die.

"Oh, at home had I but stayed
'Prenticed to my father's trade,
Had I stuck to plane and adze,
I had not been lost, my lads.

"Then I might have built perhaps
Gallows-trees for other chaps,
Never dangled on my own,
Had I left but ill alone.

"Now, you see, they hang me high,
And the people passing by
Stop to shake their fists and curse;
So 'tis come from ill to worse.

"Here hang I, and right and left
Two poor fellows hang for theft:
All the same's the luck we prove,
Though the midmost hangs for love.

"Comrades all, that stand and gaze,
Walk henceforth in other ways;
See my neck and save your own:
Comrades all, leave ill alone.

"Make some day a decent end,
Shrewder fellows than your friend.
Fare you well, for ill fare I:
Live lads, and I will die." 

Alfred Edward Housman’s other poems:

  1. Last Poems. 19. In Midnights of November
  2. Last Poems. 14. The Culprit
  3. Last Poems. 20. The Night Is Freezing Fast
  4. Last Poems. 27. The Sigh That Heaves the Grasses
  5. More Poems. 14. The Farms of Home Lie Lost in Even




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