Even Housman's humour has a melancholy edge to it. This is one of those poems when the dead speak to the living but this poor young man, lying in his grave, doesn't get the reassurance that he's looking for.
Is my team ploughing,
That I was used to drive
And hear the harness jingle
When I was man alive?’
Ay, the horses trample,
The harness jingles now;
No change though you lie under
The land you used to plough.
‘Is football playing
Along the river shore,
With lads to chase the leather,
Now I stand up no more?’
Ay, the ball is flying,
The lads play heart and soul;
The goal stands up, the keeper
Stands up to keep the goal.
‘Is my girl happy,
That I thought hard to leave,
And has she tired of weeping
As she lies down at eve?’
Ay, she lies down lightly,
She lies not down to weep:
Your girl is well contented.
Be still, my lad, and sleep.
‘Is my friend hearty,
Now I am thin and pine,
And has he found to sleep in
A better bed than mine?’
Yes, lad, I lie easy,
I lie as lads would choose;
I cheer a dead man’s sweetheart,
Never ask me whose.
Sunday, October 12, 2014
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Ouch. That's a great variation on that 'dead speaking' theme.
ReplyDeleteOne of my favourites is The Unquiet Grave, I remember learning it at school.This time the dead person is grumpy rather than plaintive.
DeleteOne cannot help but feel sorry for the poor departed lad ;)
ReplyDeleteYes, his living rival does enjoy himself a bit too much!
Delete