Download A Shropshire Lad and Other Poems: The Collected Poems of by A. E. Housman PDF

By A. E. Housman

A. E. Housman was once one of many best-loved poets of his day, whose poems conjure up a powerful and idyllic rural global imbued with a poignant experience of loss. they're expressed in easy rhythms, but express a good ear for the subtleties of metre and alliteration. His scope is huge -- starting from spiritual doubt to severe nostalgia for the nation-state. This quantity brings jointly 'A Shropshire Lad' (1896) and 'Last Poems' (1922), besides the posthumous choices 'More Poems' and 'Additional Poems', and 3 translations of extracts from Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides that demonstrate his mastery of Classical literature.

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Extra resources for A Shropshire Lad and Other Poems: The Collected Poems of A.E. Housman

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Ned Cobb asked him. " "No need of eve'ybody gittin' kilt" Cliff James said. "Better gittin' kilt quick than perishin' slow like we been a'doin'" and Ned Cobb was gone cutting across the wet red field full of dead cotton plants and then he was in the woods bare now except for the few green pines and though Cliff couldn't see him he could see him in his mind calling out John McMullen and telling him about it then cutting off east to Milo Bentley's crossing the creek on the foot-log to Judson Simpson's .

Cliff James wondered why had he plowed the land in the spring why had he worked and worked his crop his wife and children alongside him in the field and now pretty soon they would all be going out again dragging their long sacks bending double in the hot sun picking Mr Parker's cotton for him. Sitting on the stoop of his cabin with his legs hanging over the rotten board edges Cliff James looked across his fields of thick green cotton In Egypt Land to the woods beyond and a thunderhead piled high in the south piled soft and white like cotton on the stoop like a big day's pick waiting for the wagon to come haul it to the gin.

Right after he left the Negro's friends arrived in the slow truck and hung around afraid to ask anything but wanting to know if he was surely dead before they told his wife and finally one of them sidled up to the window and asked and the girl said he'd been taken to the operating room and then she asked had any one of them got that Florida license number and they said they didn't know nothin about no Florida license number and she said hadn't a Florida car hit him and they said the white gentleman what hit him done carried him to the hospital in his car THE BEST STEEL IN THE WORLD Light bursts from the tap-hole the big open hearth furnace tilting over on its rockers and another heat of rail-steel is on its way made right for I've watched it from the first scrap charge through how it took hot metal the slag fluffing from the high pot the way it ought to then smoothing down to a creamy boil cleansing the fierce blue molten steel beneath A good heat of steel this one not like that other The Best Steel in the World 17 that went dead soft in the furnace and they tried to kid me that the carbon was holding up and when they found I wouldn't buy that they switched tests on me and I caught them at it and put on my metallurgist's report what they had tried to pull and condemned the whole heat 110 tons of bad rail steel I sent to the scrap yard where it belonged and the superintendent nearly got fired He tried to run me out of the mill for that gave orders that nobody was to give me any information or even speak to me and Charley Gray the melter I caught switching tests told people what he was going to beat out of me if he ever caught me outside That was something to go through not being spoken to for three weeks by the guys I worked with and having to run my metallurgist's job right on but I managed somehow and one by one the guys began breaking down the third-helpers started giving me dope then the second-helpers and finally the first-helpers even and a lot of them said I'd been right because rail steel had to be good to take what it had to take on the line The molten steel pours in the ladle and the helpers shovel ferro-silicon through the hole in the shield I smell the burning cloth of their face wrappings hear their sharp breaths as they struggle in the searing heat the scrape of fast shovels on the cherry-red steel floor The superintendent is standing beside me about to say something after all these weeks Sidelong he smiles at me (we used to be good friends) then speaks "We're not paid to make the best steel in the world" he says "but to make a profit" 18 Poems: 1924-1940 (Far up the line she whistles for a crossing the deep IC whistle I used to pick out as a child half-asleep in my bed from the Frisco the L&N and the AGS whistles then she whistles nearer the all-Pullman Panama Limited tearing down the line Leaning with the curve the locomotive rips around the shoulder of a yellow Mississippi hill the flawed rail we once made snaps in two and drivers spinning still the mighty engine is on its back in ditch while escaping steam cooks the mangled bodies of its crew and buckled up-ended cars where shriek the trapped stretch back along the curve) ENSLEY, ALABAMA: 1932 The mills are down.

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