From a bouquet of poetry

I like to keep certain poems near the front of my brain so that I can hold them like so many fragrant flowers against the stench of humanity. Here's today's, from Housman's Last Poems:

Star and coronal and bell

    April underfoot renews,

And the hope of man as well

    Flowers among the morning dews.

Now the old come out to look,

    Winter past and winter's pains.

How the sky in pool and brook

    Glitters on the grassy plains.

Easily the gentle air

    Wafts the turning season on;

Things to comfort them are there,

    Though 'tis true the best are gone.

Now the scorned unlucky lad

    Rousing from his pillow gnawn

Mans his heart and deep and glad

    Drinks the valiant air of dawn.

Half the night he longed to die,

    Now are sown on hill and plain

Pleasures worth his while to try

    Ere he longs to die again.

Blue the sky from east to west

    Arches, and the world is wide,

Though the girl he loves the best

    Rouses from another's side.