A Shropshire Lad
The wind and I, we both were there,
But neither long abode;
Now through the friendless world we fare
And sigh upon the road.
But neither long abode;
Now through the friendless world we fare
And sigh upon the road.
❦
XXXIX
'T is time, I think, by Wenlock town
The golden broom should blow;
The hawthorn sprinkled up and down
Should charge the land with snow.
The golden broom should blow;
The hawthorn sprinkled up and down
Should charge the land with snow.
Spring will not wait the loiterer's time
Who keeps so long away;
So others wear the broom and climb
The hedgerows heaped with may.
Who keeps so long away;
So others wear the broom and climb
The hedgerows heaped with may.
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