A Shropshire Lad/'T is time, I think, by Wenlock town

by Alfred Edward Housman

XXXIX

'T is time, I think, by Wenlock town
The golden broom should blow;
The hawthorn sprinkled up and down
Should charge the land with snow.

Spring will not wait the loiterer's time
Who keeps so long away;
So others wear the broom and climb
The hedgerows heaped with may.

Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge,
 Gold that I never see;
Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge.
 That will not shower on me.

 

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