Say, lad, have you things to do?
Quick then, while your day’s at prime.
Quick, and if ’tis work for two,
Here am I man: now’s your time.
Send me now, and I shall go;
Call me, I shall hear you call;
Use me ere they lay me low
Where a man’s no use at all;
Ere the wholesome flesh decay
And the willing nerve be numb,
And the lips lack breath to say,
“No, my lad, I cannot come.”
(A. E. Housman)
More Poetry from A. E. Housman:
A. E. Housman Poems based on Topics: Man, Time- LXII: Terence, This is Stupid Stuff (A E Housman Poems)
- IX: The Chestnut Casts His Flambeaux and the Flowers (A E Housman Poems)
- XIII: The Deserter (A E Housman Poems)
- Diffugere Nives (A E Housman Poems)
- I:1887 (A E Housman Poems)
- IX: On Moonlit Heath and Lonesome Bank (A E Housman Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Man Poems, Time PoemsBased on Keywords: wholesome