Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose, But young men think it is, and we were young.

Tomorrow, more's the pity, Away we both must hie, To air the ditty and to earth I.

I find Cambridge an asylum, in every sense of the word.

Good night; ensured release, Imperishable peace, Have these for yours. * While sky and sea and land And earth's foundations stand And heaven endures. *These three lines are on the tablet over Housman's grave in the parish church at Ludlow, Shropshire, England

His folly has not fellow Beneath the blue of day That gives to man or woman His heart and soul away.

Tell me not here, it needs not saying, What tune the enchantress plays In aftermaths of soft September Or under blanching mays, For she and I were long acquainted And I knew all her ways.

I could no more define poetry than a terrier can define a rat.