When The Lad For Longing Sighs

Alfred Edward Housman

When the lad for longing sighs,
Mute and dull of cheer and pale,
If at death’s own door he lies,
Maiden, you can heal his ail.

Lovers’ ills are all to buy:
The wan look, the hollow tone,
The hung head, the sunken eye,
You can have them for your own.

Buy them, buy them: eve and morn
Lovers’ ills are all to sell.
Then you can lie down forlorn;
But the lover will be well.

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Previous 10 Poems

• Alfred Edward Housman : When Smoke Stood Up From Ludlow
• Alfred Edward Housman : When I Watch The Living Meet
• Alfred Edward Housman : When I Was One-and-twenty
• Alfred Edward Housman : When I Came Last To Ludlow
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• Alfred Edward Housman : Wake Not For The World-heard Thunder
• Alfred Edward Housman : Twice A Week The Winter Thorough
• Alfred Edward Housman : To An Athlete Dying Young
• Alfred Edward Housman : Tis Time, I Think, By Wenlock Town
• Alfred Edward Housman : This Time Of Year A Twelvemonth Past