A.E. Housman
[There pass the careless people] (1886)
(from A Shropshire Lad, XIV)

 

There pass the careless people

 

That call their souls their own:

 

Here by the road I loiter,

4

How idle and alone.

 

 

 

Ah, past the plunge of plummet,

 

In seas I cannot sound,

 

My heart and soul and senses,

8

World without end, are drowned.

 

 

 

His folly has not fellow

 

Beneath the blue of day

 

That gives to man or woman

12

His heart and soul away.

 

 

 

There flowers no balm to sain him

 

From east of earth to west

 

Thatís lost for everlasting

16

The heart out of his breast.

 

 

 

Here by the labouring highway

 

With empty hands I stroll:

 

Sea-deep, till doomsday morning,

20

Lie lost my heart and soul.