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Poem by Alfred Edward Housman


A Shropshire Lad. 59. The Isle of Portland


The star-filled seas are smooth to-night
   From France to England strown;
Black towers above the Portland light
   The felon-quarried stone.

On yonder island, not to rise,
   Never to stir forth free,
Far from his folk a dead lad lies
   That once was friends with me.

Lie you easy, dream you light,
   And sleep you fast for aye;
And luckier may you find the night
   Than ever you found the day.



Alfred Edward Housman


Alfred Edward Housman's other poems:
  1. Additional Poems. 1. Atys
  2. Additional Poems. 2. Oh Were He and I Together
  3. Last Poems. 22. The Sloe Was Lost in Flower
  4. More Poems. 9. When Green Buds Hang in the Elm Like Dust
  5. Additional Poems. 11a. They Shall Have Breath that Never Were


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