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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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18

REVEILLE

Wake: the silver dusk returning
Up the beach of darkness brims,
And the ship of sunrise burning
Strands upon the eastern rims.
Wake: the vaulted shadow shatters,
Trampled to the floor it spanned,
And the tent of night in tatters
Straws the sky-pavilioned land.
Up, lad, up, 'tis late for lying:
Hear the drums of morning play;
Hark, the empty highways crying
"Who'll beyond the hills away?"
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Towns and countries woo together,
Forelands beacon, belfries call;
Never lad that trod on leather
Lived to feast his heart with all.
Up, lad: thews that lie and cumber
Sunlit pallets never thrive;
Morns abed and daylight slumber
Were not meant for man alive.
Clay lies still, but blood's a rover;
Breath's a ware that will not keep.
Up, lad: when the journey's over
There'll be time enough to sleep.
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