Leave your home behind, lad, And reach your friends your hand, And go, and luck go with you While Ludlow tower shall stand. Oh, come you home of Sunday

If truth in hearts that perish Could move the powers on high, I think the love I bear you Should make you not to die. Sure, sure, if stedfast meaning,

When the eye of day is shut, And the stars deny their beams, And about the forest hut Blows the roaring wood of dreams, From deep clay, from desert rock,

O thou that from thy mansion Through time and place to roam, Dost send abroad thy children, And then dost call them home, That men and tribes and nations

Her strong enchantments failing, Her towers of fear in wreck, Her limbecks dried of poisons And the knife at her neck, The Queen of air and darkness

“Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, ‘Soldier, fly or stay for long.’ ”Comrade, if to turn and fly

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough… And stands about the woodland ride Wearing white for Eastertide. Now, of my threescore years and te…

It nods and curtseys and recovers When the wind blows above, The nettle on the graves of lovers That hanged themselves for love. The nettle nods, the wind blows ov…

Now hollow fires burn out to black… And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your p… And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought’s to dr…

Twice a week the winter thorough Here stood I to keep the goal: Football then was fighting sorrow For the young man’s soul. Now in Maytime to the wicket

With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping

In summertime on Bredon The bells they sound so clear; Round both the shires they ring th… In steeples far and near, A happy noise to hear.

ALONG the field as we came by A year ago, my love and I, The aspen over stile and stone Was talking to itself alone. ‘Oh who are these that kiss and pa…

If by chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves t… And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend yo…

Oh, see how thick the goldcup flow… Are lying in field and lane, With dandelions to tell the hours That never are told again. Oh may I squire you round the mea…