to an athlete who died young
-----by AE Housman (1859-1936)
The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
and home we brought
you shoulder - high all runners come, Shoulder-high we bring you home, And set you at your threshold down, Townsman of a stiller town. , the town is solemn and peaceful for you Smart lad, to slip betimes away From fields were glory does not stay And early though the laurel grows
it withers
quicker than the rose _ _ _ has stopped the ears: the curtain of night falls, no more records to be refreshed, silence is no worse than cheers, the earth will cut you off forever Now you will not swell the rout Of lads that wore their honours out, Runners whom renown outran And the name died before the man. You won't be defeated Their glory fades quickly And new records keep breaking Their names are forgotten before its echoes fade, The fleet foot on the sill of shade, And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup. And round that early-laurelled head Will
flock to gaze the strengthless dead, And find unwithered on its curls he garland briefer than a girl's. You wear a delicate laurel wreath, and people gather to stare at the dead The wreath on the curls hasn't withered, though it's shorter than a girl's curls This semester's class with English business cards to appreciate Watch the whole movie I don't know how to describe my mood , but I am inexplicably associated with the Daming Palace Ci. This association is very unreliable. Forget it later, let's talk about what's going on. I really like this poem . I found it on someone else's blog.
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