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| | A. E. Housman - A SHROPSHIRE LAD |
 | | Up, lad, up, 'tis late for lying: Hear the drums of morning play; Hark, the empty highways crying "Who'll beyond the hills away?" Towns and countries woo together, Forelands beacon, belfries call; Never lad that trod on leather Lived to feast his heart with all. |
 | | XXIII The lads in their hundreds to Ludlow come in for the fair, There's men from the barn and the forge and the mill and the fold, The lads for the girls and the lads for the liquor are there, And there with the rest are the lads that will never be old. |
 | | Oh lads, at home I heard you plain, But here your speech is still, And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. |
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