Poem by Alfred Edward Housman

Last Poems. 4. Illic Jacet

Oh hard is the bed they have made him,
        And common the blanket and cheap;
But there he will lie as they laid him:
        Where else could you trust him to sleep?

To sleep when the bugle is crying
        And cravens have heard and are brave,
When mothers and sweethearts are sighing
        And lads are in love with the grave.

Oh dark is the chamber and lonely,
        And lights and companions depart;
But lief will he lose them and only
        Behold the desire of his heart.

And low is the roof, but it covers
        A sleeper content to repose;
And far from his friends and his lovers
        He lies with the sweetheart he chose.

1. Last Poems. 21. The Fairies Break Their Dances
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4. More Poems. 21. The World Goes None the Lamer
5. A Shropshire Lad. 46. Bring, in this Timeless Grave to Throw

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