The Author A. E. Housman

A Shropshire Lad - XLV


    If it chance your eye offend you,
    Pluck it out, lad, and be sound:
    'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you,
    And many a balsam grows on ground.

    And if your hand or foot offend you,
    Cut it off, lad, and be whole;
    But play the man, stand up and end you,
    When your sickness is your soul.


facebook share button twitter share button google plus share button tumblr share button reddit share button email share button share on pinterest pinterest

Create a library and add your favorite stories. Get started by clicking the "Add" button.
Add A Shropshire Lad - XLV to your own personal library.

Return to the A. E. Housman Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; A Shropshire Lad - XLVI

Anton Chekhov
Nathaniel Hawthorne
Susan Glaspell
Mark Twain
Edgar Allan Poe
Mary E. Wilkins Freeman
Herman Melville
Stephen Leacock
Kate Chopin
Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson