XXXIX

Last updated on December 1, 2021

When summer’s end is nighing
  And skies at evening cloud,
I muse on change and fortune
  And all the feats I vowed
  When I was young and proud.

The weathercock at sunset
  Would lose the slanted ray,
And I would climb the beacon
  That looked to Wales away
  And saw the last of day.

From hill and cloud and heaven
  The hues of evening died;
Night welled through lane and hollow
  And hushed the countryside,
  But I had youth and pride.

And I with earth and nightfall
  In converse high would stand,
Late, till the west was ashen
  And darkness hard at hand,
  And the eye lost the land.

The year might age, and cloudy
  The lessening day might close,
But air of other summers
  Breathed from beyond the snows,
  And I had hope of those.

They came and were and are not
  And come no more anew;
And all the years and seasons
  That ever can ensue
  Must now be worse and few.

So here’s an end of roaming
  On eves when autumn nighs:
The ear too fondly listens
  For summer’s parting sighs,
  And then the heart replies.

XXXIX (from Last Poems) by A.E. Housman
Untitled but numbered instead
“Last Poems” Published 1922

His stanza is different. There is a fifth line, which always puzzled me. It works like a break, slowing me down reading. It forces me to digest. Being so used to the four line poems, the fifths line hit me like a brick.

I happen to like that a lot.

I read it in school and remember to this day.

Sometimes I wish they would know how much their work affects some of us.