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Poem by Alfred Edward Housman


More Poems. 14. The Farms of Home Lie Lost in Even


The farms of home lie lost in even,
        I see far off the steeple stand;
West and away from here to heaven,
        Still is the land.

There if I go no girl will greet me,
        No comrade hollo from the hill,
No dog run down the yard to meet me:
        The land is still.

The land is still by farm and steeple,
        And still for me the land may stay:
There I was friends with perished people,
        And there lie they.



Alfred Edward Housman


Alfred Edward Housman's other poems:
  1. More Poems. 40. Farewell to a Name and a Number
  2. Additional Poems. 2. Oh Were He and I Together
  3. More Poems. 46. The Land of Biscay
  4. Last Poems. 30. SinnerТs Rue
  5. More Poems. 11. The Rainy Pleiads Wester


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