Be Still, My Soul, Be Still

Alfred Edward Housman

Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle,
Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong.
Think rather,-- call to thought, if now you grieve a little,
The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long.

Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry
I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn;
Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry:
Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born.

Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason,
I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun.
Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season:
Let us endure an hour and see injustice done.

Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation;
All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain:
Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation--
Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? 

Next 10 Poems

• Alfred Edward Housman : Be Still, My Soul, Be Still; The Arms You Bear Are Brittle
• Alfred Edward Housman : Bredon Hill
• Alfred Edward Housman : Bring, In This Timeless Grave To Throw
• Alfred Edward Housman : Clunton And Clunbury
• Alfred Edward Housman : Could Man Be Drunk Forever
• Alfred Edward Housman : Diffugere Nives ( Horace, Odes 4.7 )
• Alfred Edward Housman : Eight O'clock
• Alfred Edward Housman : Epitaph On An Army Of Mercenaries
• Alfred Edward Housman : Far In A Western Brookland
• Alfred Edward Housman : Farewell To Barn And Stack And Tree

Previous 10 Poems

• Alfred Edward Housman : As Through The Wild Green Hills Of Wyre
• Alfred Edward Housman : Along The Field As We Came By
• Alfred Edward Housman : 1887
• Gerard Manley Hopkins : What Shall I Do For The Land That Bred Me
• Gerard Manley Hopkins : What Being In Rank-old Nature Should Earlier Have That Breath Been
• Gerard Manley Hopkins : What Being In Rank-old Nature
• Gerard Manley Hopkins : Tom's Garland
• Gerard Manley Hopkins : To What Serves Mortal Beauty?
• Gerard Manley Hopkins : To Seem The Stranger Lies My Lot, My Life
• Gerard Manley Hopkins : To R. B.