The Street Sounds To The Soldiers' Tread

Alfred Edward Housman

The street sounds to the soldiers' tread,
And out we troop to see:
A single redcoat turns his head,
He turns and looks at me.

My man, from sky to sky's so far,
We never crossed before;
Such leagues apart the world's ends are,
We're like to meet no more;

What thoughts at heart have you and I
We cannot stop to tell;
But dead or living, drunk or dry,
Soldier, I wish you well. 

Next 10 Poems

• Alfred Edward Housman : The True Lover
• Alfred Edward Housman : The Welsh Marches
• Alfred Edward Housman : The Winds Out Of The West Land Blow
• Alfred Edward Housman : There Pass The Careless People
• Alfred Edward Housman : Think No More, Lad
• Alfred Edward Housman : Think No More, Lad; Laugh, Be Jolly
• Alfred Edward Housman : This Time Of Year A Twelvemonth Past
• Alfred Edward Housman : Tis Time, I Think, By Wenlock Town
• Alfred Edward Housman : To An Athlete Dying Young
• Alfred Edward Housman : Twice A Week The Winter Thorough

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• Alfred Edward Housman : The Stinging Nettle
• Alfred Edward Housman : The Recruit
• Alfred Edward Housman : The Rainy Pleiads Wester
• Alfred Edward Housman : The New Mistress
• Alfred Edward Housman : The Merry Guide
• Alfred Edward Housman : The Lent Lily
• Alfred Edward Housman : The Laws Of God, The Laws Of Man
• Alfred Edward Housman : The Lads In Their Hundreds To Ludlow Come In For The Fair
• Alfred Edward Housman : The Lads In Their Hundreds
• Alfred Edward Housman : The Isle Of Portland