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Poem by Alfred Edward Housman


More Poems. 20. Like Mine, the Veins of these that Slumber


Like mine, the veins of these that slumber
        Leapt once with dancing fires divine;
The blood of all this noteless number
        Ran red like mine.

How still, with every pulse in station,
        Frost in the founts that used to leap,
The thralls of night, the perished nation,
        How sound they sleep!

These too, these veins which life convulses,
        Wait but a while, shall cease to bound;
I with the ice in all my pulses
        Shall sleep as sound.



Alfred Edward Housman


Alfred Edward Housman's other poems:
  1. More Poems. 46. The Land of Biscay
  2. Additional Poems. 2. Oh Were He and I Together
  3. More Poems. 47. For My Funeral
  4. More Poems. 9. When Green Buds Hang in the Elm Like Dust
  5. Last Poems. 12. The Laws of God, the Laws of Man


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