Poem by Alfred Edward Housman

A Shropshire Lad. 60. Now Hollow Fires Burn out to Black

Now hollow fires burn out to black,
 And lights are guttering low:
Square your shoulders, lift your pack,
 And leave your friends and go.

Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread,
 Look not left nor right:
In all the endless road you tread
 There's nothing but the night.

1. More Poems. 22. Ho, Everyone that Tthirsteth
2. More Poems. 17. Bells in Tower at Evening Toll
3. More Poems. 9. When Green Buds Hang in the Elm Like Dust
4. Additional Poems. 2. Oh Were He and I Together
5. More Poems. 25. Yon Flakes that Fret the Eastern Sky

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