The Author A. E. Housman

Now dreary dawns the eastern light


    Now dreary dawns the eastern light,
    And fall of eve is drear,
    And cold the poor man lies at night,
    And so goes out the year.

    Little is the luck I’ve had,
    And oh, ‘tis comfort small
    To think that many another lad
    Has had no luck at all.


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Return to the A. E. Housman Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; Oh stay at home, my lad, and plough

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