On The Idle Hill Of Summer

Alfred Edward Housman

On the idle hill of summer,
  Sleepy with the flow of streams,
Far I hear the steady drummer
  Drumming like a noise in dreams.
Far and near and low and louder
  On the roads of earth go by,
Dear to friends and food for powder,
  Soldiers marching, all to die.
East and west on fields forgotten
  Bleach the bones of comrades slain,
Lovely lads and dead and rotten;
  None that go return again.
Far the calling bugles hollo,
  High the screaming fife replies,
Gay the files of scarlet follow:
  Woman bore me, I will rise.

Next 10 Poems

• Alfred Edward Housman : On Wenlock Edge The Wood's In Trouble
• Alfred Edward Housman : On Your Midnight Pallet Lying
• Alfred Edward Housman : Others, I Am Not The First
• Alfred Edward Housman : Reveille
• Alfred Edward Housman : Say, Lad, Have You Things To Do?
• Alfred Edward Housman : Shot? So Quick, So Clean An Ending?
• Alfred Edward Housman : Stars
• Alfred Edward Housman : Tell Me Not Here, It Needs Not Saying
• Alfred Edward Housman : Terence, This Is Stupid Stuff
• Alfred Edward Housman : The Carpenter's Son

Previous 10 Poems

• Alfred Edward Housman : On Moonlit Heath And Lonesome Bank
• Alfred Edward Housman : Oh, When I Was In Love With You
• Alfred Edward Housman : Oh Who Is That Young Sinner
• Alfred Edward Housman : Oh Stay At Home, My Lad
• Alfred Edward Housman : Oh See How Thick The Goldcup Flowers
• Alfred Edward Housman : Oh Fair Enough Are Sky And Plain
• Alfred Edward Housman : O Why Do You Walk ( A Parody )
• Alfred Edward Housman : Now Hollow Fires Burn Out To Black
• Alfred Edward Housman : March
• Alfred Edward Housman : Loveliest Of Trees, The Cherry Now