Dr. Vavra's ENL 121 Lit Anthology
 


To an Athlete Dying Young 
--A. E. 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.

      Today, the road all runners come, 
      Shoulder-high we bring you home, 
      And set you at your threshold down, 
      Townsman of a stiller town.

      Smart lad, to slip betimes away 
      From fields where glory does not stay 
      And early though the laurel grows 
      It withers quicker than the rose.

      Eyes the shady night has shut 
      Cannot see the record cut, 
      And silence sounds no worse than cheers 
      After earth has stopped the ears;

      Now you will not swell the rout 
      Of lads that wore their honors out, 
      Runners whom renown outran 
      And the name died before the man.

      So set, 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-laureled head 
      Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead, 
      And find unwithered on its curls 
      The garland briefer than a girl's.