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A SHROPSHIRE LAD
Up, lad, up, 'tis late for lying:
Hear the drums of morning play;
Hark, the empty highways crying
'Who'll beyond the hills away?'
Hear the drums of morning play;
Hark, the empty highways crying
'Who'll beyond the hills away?'
Towns and countries woo together,
Forelands beacon, belfries call;
Never lad that trod on leather
Lived to feast his heart with all.
Forelands beacon, belfries call;
Never lad that trod on leather
Lived to feast his heart with all.
Up, lad: thews that lie and cumber
Sunlit pallets never thrive;
Morns abed and daylight slumber
Were not meant for man alive.
Sunlit pallets never thrive;
Morns abed and daylight slumber
Were not meant for man alive.
Clay lies still, but blood's a rover;
}Breath's a ware that will not keep.
Up, lad: when the journey's over
There'll be time enough to sleep.
}Breath's a ware that will not keep.
Up, lad: when the journey's over
There'll be time enough to sleep.
❦
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