A Shropshire Lad/The True Lover

by Alfred Edward Housman

LIII

THE TRUE LOVER

The lad came to the door at night,When lovers crown their vows,And whistled soft and out of sightIn shadow of the boughs.

'I shall not vex you with my faceHenceforth, my love, for aye;So take me in your arms a spaceBefore the east is grey.

'When I from hence away am pastI shall not find a bride,And you shall be the first and lastI ever lay beside.'

She heard and went and knew not why;Her heart to his she laid;Light was the air beneath the skyBut dark under the shade.

'Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breastSeems not to rise and fall,And here upon my bosom prestThere beats no heart at all?'

'Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock,You should have felt it then;But since for you I stopped the clockIt never goes again.'

'Oh lad, what is it, lad, that dripsWet from your neck on mine?What is it falling on my lips,My lad, that tastes of brine?'

'Oh like enough ’tis blood, my dear,For when the knife has slitThe throat across from ear to ear'T will bleed because of it.'

Under the stars the air was lightBut dark below the boughs,The still air of the speechless night,When lovers crown their vows.

 

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