The fairies break their dances
And leave the printed lawn,
And up from India glances
The silver sail of dawn.
The candles burn their sockets,
The blinds let through the day,
The young man feels his pockets
And wonders what's to pay.
Back to A. E. Housman
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓
To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.