A Shropshire Lad - LX

by A. E. Housman

    Now hollow fires burn out to black,
    And lights are guttering low:
    Square your shoulders, lift your pack,
    And leave your friends and go.

    Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread,
    Look not left nor right:
    In all the endless road you tread
    There's nothing but the night.