Laurence Housman anthology

Laurence Housman

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	A short anthology of Laurence Housman Angels and Ministers \| Anthology \| Blue Moon \| King John of Jingalo \| Poems \| Hymns \| Occasional verse Links When the Housman Society visited Street and Glastonbury in June 2005 to see where Laurence and Clemence Housman lived and worked, they heard a performance of part of a play (The Queen, God bless her!) and these poems. The poems are almost all shortened. Laurence Housman was so prolific that he gave too little time to polishing his work, and the force of his best lines is too often reduced by the addition of more verses. (The same is true of many sermons.) The Peace is signed - 1919 Tonight there'll be feasting in the city; They will drink deep and eat -- Keep peace the way you planned you would keep it (If we got the Boche beat). Oh, your plan and your word, they are broken, For you neither dine nor dance; And there's no peace so quiet, so lasting, As the peace you keep in France. Man's love, woman's love Ah! A man's love is strong When fain he comes a-mating. But a woman's love is long, And grows when it is waiting. The Dead Warrior HERE sown to dust lies one that drave The furrow through his heart; Now, of the fields he died to save His own dust forms a part. So, with distraction round him stilled, Now let him be content! And time from age to age shall build His standing monument. Not here, where strife, and greed, and lust Grind up the bones of men; But in that safe and secret dust Which shall not rise again. A summer night Touch, and clasp, and be close! Kiss, oh kiss, and be warm! What is here, O beloved, so like a sea without sound? Under the swathe at our feet, swifter than wings of storm, Summer speeds on his way: Spring lies dead in the ground. How like a closing flower, clasped by a sleeping bee, Life folds over us now:-- and here in the midst love lies. O beloved, O flower of night, no morrow's moon shall we see: Between a dusk and a day we meet, and at dawn Time dies! A thought If nature had arranged that husbands and wives should have children alternatively, there would never be more than three in a family.... Some well-known lines Light looked down and beheld Darkness 'Thither will I go,' said Light. Peace looked down and beheld war, 'Thither will I go,' said Peace. Love looked down and beheld Hatred. 'Thither will I go,' said Love So came Light and shine; So came Peace and gave Rest So came Love and gave Life And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us. Puss in winter With a pit pat that one hardly hears the snow-white cat from the hill where she sat comes over the moor and rubs at the door and purrs. The Open Grave FAREWELL now, Life, and kiss thou me! And if men ask thee how I died, Say that I went with ill-content And backward looks from thy dear side. And if they, coming near my tomb, Shall listen, and shall fail to hear Me sobbing in that narrow room ; It is because I am not there. But to the wind this breath that goes, - There hearkening thou shalt hear me sound And count my dust wherever blows The restless dust along the ground. Since here I lived, where can I die ? A breath to dust that will not burn, My ghost in every wind goes by, And in my grave I turn and turn! The Death of St. Christopher Christopher, who bore our Lord On his shoulder through the ford, After years (his great reward) One glad day lay down to die. From his body, limb by limb, Labour he put off from him, Till he heard a passer-by Stand before the ford and cry. When he heard the summons sound, Christopher rose up from ground; Forth he went on duty bound, Murmuring : "Lest I work amiss, Christ must give me strength for this : This my latest labour is! " When he reached the ford at length, Spake the Voice of all his bliss, Saying, "Christ shall give thee strength!" Humble, bowed, and very faint, At His Feet fell down the Saint, At His Feet fell down to pray, " Lord, I have not strength to-day, Thou must go some other way! These old limbs can lift no more That dread weight which once they bore." In his face the Holy Child Looked and smiled ; And His Voice grew full and wide, Many waters multiplied, Saying : " Oh, Christopher, let be! Since thou once didst carry Me, I am come to carry thee." Very gently from his knees Lifted him the Prince of Peace; Wonderful and Counsellor, In His Hands the Saint He bore; He, the everlasting Lord, Carried him across the ford. The Return of the Native The ghost came back when frost lay cold Across his father's farm; And stayed where huddled flocks kept fold, His crook upon his arm. He in the moonlight looked at peace, And piped a pastoral tune: He seemed a shepherd of the fleece That drifts across the moon. All night he watched upon the croft Until the break of day: then heaved his shepherd's crook aloft And sighed himself away. The Red Field A tale like Thomas Hardy's pessimistic stories and poems, with an ending that reminds me of the last sentence of Wuthering Heights. In the field my lover found me Who dared not be his bride; There with the corn-stems around me I lay down at his side. In the field my brother slew me To shield our father's pride From the shame that had gone through me, and the babe within my side. In the field my lover slew him Before my blood had dried: Then with his own sword to him Self-slain my lover died. Think of us, all folks, kindly Here, where we all abide! We are friendly who loved so blindly, Now we lie side by side. 1685 Over the hills as I came down, across the flats where the peewits cry, I heard the drums through all the town Beat for the men that were to die Bethlehem scene 'Who knocks tonight so late?' The weary porter said. Three Kings stood at the gate, Each with a crown on head. The serving-man bowed down; The inn was full, he knew. Said he, 'In all this town Is no fit place for you!' A light the manger lit: There lay the Mother meek. Said they, 'This place is fit: Here is the rest we seek!' They loosed their latchet-strings ; So stood they all unshod. 'Come in, ye Kings, ye Kings! And kiss the Feet of God !'.