A. E. Housman(1859–1936)
On Wenlock Edge the Wood's in Trouble
O n W e n l o c k E d g e t h e w o o d ' s i n trouble;
H i s forest f l e e c e t h e W r e k i n 3 h e a v e s ;
T h e gale, it p l i e s t h e saplings d o u b l e ,
A n d t h i c k o n S e v e r n 4 s n o w t h e leaves.
' T w o u l d b l o w like this t h r o u g h h o l t a n d h a n g e r 5
W h e n U r i c o n 6 t h e city stood:
'Tis t h e old w i n d in t h e old anger,
B u t t h e n i t t h r e s h e d a n o t h e r w o o d .
T h e n , 'twas b e f o r e m y time, t h e R o m a n
At yonder heaving hill would stare:
T h e b l o o d that w a r m s a n E n g l i s h y e o m a n ,
T h e t h o u g h t s that hurt h i m , t h e y w e r e there.
T h e r e , like t h e w i n d t h r o u g h w o o d s i n riot,
T h r o u g h h i m t h e gale o f life b l e w high;
T h e tree of m a n w a s n e v e r quiet:
T h e n 'twas t h e R o m a n , n o w 'tis I.
T h e gale, it p l i e s t h e saplings d o u b l e ,
It blows so hard, 'twill soon be gone:
To-day the Roman and his trouble
Are ashes under Uricon.