Related posts:
Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack And leave your friends and go. – A. E. Housman
Three minutes thought would suffice to find this out; but thought is irksome and three minutes is a long time. – A. E. Housman
With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipped maiden And many a lightfoot lad. – A. E. Housman
White in the moon the long road lies. – A. E. Housman