A Shropshire Lad - Revisited
Tuesday, July 01, 2014
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| Rosa 'A Shropshire Lad' July 1, 2014 |
In the late 80s I went to Shropshire
on a literary tour courtesy of British Airways. For reading material I had with
me A.E. Housman’s A Shropshire Lad, a tome of Mary Webb’s poetry and D.H.
Lawrence’s travel stories. I loved Houseman not knowing at the time that nearby
David Austin had hybridized a lovely English Rose called A Shropshire Lad. I
have had this rose now for some years. It is in deep shade so it has a
reluctant and brief period when it blooms. But the flowers are lovely if
sparse. It grieves me a bit to snip one as I did today, Canada Day so I could
scan. There was another stalk with a bud and a flower not quite open. I did not
have the heart to snip them, too. One bloom will suffice.The leaves are big and course but they will do.
A. E. Housman
(1859–1936). A Shropshire
Lad. 1896.
Bring, in this
timeless grave to throw
No cypress, sombre on
the snow;
Snap not from the
bitter yew
His leaves that live
December through;
Break no rosemary,
bright with rime
And sparkling to the
cruel crime;
Nor plod the winter
land to look
For willows in the icy
brook
To cast them leafless
round him: bring
To spray that ever
buds in spring.
But if the Christmas
field has kept
Awns the last gleaner
overstept,
Or shrivelled flax,
whose flower is blue
A single season, never
two;
Or if one haulm whose
year is o’er
Shivers on the upland
frore,
—Oh, bring from hill
and stream and plain
Whatever will not
flower again,
To give him comfort:
he and those
Shall bide eternal
bedfellows
Where low upon the
couch he lies
