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A Shropshire Lad

  
[title page]

  
Far in a Western Brookland
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1887
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[poem]
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THE RECRUIT
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REVEILLE
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MARCH
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TO AN ATHLETE DYING YOUNG
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BREDON HILL
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THE WELSH MARCHES
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THE LENT LILY
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THE NEW MISTRESS
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THE MERRY GUIDE
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THE IMMORTAL PART
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THE CARPENTER'S SON
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THE TRUE LOVER
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THE DAY OF BATTLE
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THE ISLE OF PORTLAND
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HUGHLEY STEEPLE
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80

'Tis time, I think, by Wenlock town
The golden broom should blow;
The hawthorn sprinkled up and down
Should charge the land with snow.
Spring will not wait the loiterer's time
Who keeps so long away;
So others wear the broom and climb
The hedgerows heaped with may.
Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge,
Gold that I never see;
Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge
That will not shower on me.
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