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,


How idle and alone.




Ah, past the plunge of plummet,


In seas I cannot sound,


My heart and soul and senses,


World without end, are drowned.




His folly has not fellow


Beneath the blue of day


That gives to man or woman


His heart and soul away.




There flowers no balm to sain him


From east of earth to west


Thatís lost for everlasting


The heart out of his breast.




Here by the labouring highway


With empty hands I stroll:


Sea-deep, till doomsday morning,


Lie lost my heart and soul.