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Last Poems (Housman)/Fancy's Knell

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4467074Last Poems — The Culprit1922Alfred Edward Housman
XLI
Fancy's Knell
When lads were home from labourAt Abdon under Clee,A man would call his neighbourAnd both would send for me.And where the light in lancesAcross the mead was laid,There to the dancesI fetched my flute and played.
Ours were idle pleasures,Yet oh, content we were,The young to wind the measures,The old to heed the air;And I to lift with playingFrom tree and tower and steepThe light delaying,And flute the sun to sleep.
The youth toward his fancyWould turn his brow of tan,And Tom would pair with NancyAnd Dick step off with Fan;The girl would lift her glancesTo his, and both be mute:Well went the dancesAt evening to the flute.
Wenlock Edge was umbered,And bright was Abdon Burf,And warm between them slumberedThe smooth green miles of turf;Until from grass and cloverThe upshot beam would fade,And England overAdvanced the lofty shade.
The lofty shade advances,I fetch my flute and play:Come, lads, and learn the dancesAnd praise the tune to-day. To-morrow, more's the pity,Away we both must hie,To air the ditty,And to earth I.