Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен))
More Poems. 32. Their Seed the Sowers Scatter
Their seed the sowers scatter Behind them as they go. Poor lads, ’tis little matter How many sorts they sow, For only one will grow. The charlock on the fallow Will take the traveller’s eyes, And gild the ploughland sallow With flowers before it dies, But twice ’twill not arise. The stinging-nettle only Will aye be found to stand: The numberless, the lonely, The filler of the land, The leaf that hurts the hand. That thrives, come sun, come showers; Blow east, blow west, it springs; It peoples towns, and towers About the courts of Kings, And touch it and it stings.
Alfred Edward Housman’s other poems:
- Last Poems. 19. In Midnights of November
- Last Poems. 14. The Culprit
- Last Poems. 20. The Night Is Freezing Fast
- Last Poems. 27. The Sigh That Heaves the Grasses
- More Poems. 14. The Farms of Home Lie Lost in Even
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