When The Journey's Over/there'll Be Time Enough

White In The Moon The Long Road Lies.

Shoulder The Sky, My Lad, And Drink Your Ale.

June Suns, You Cannot Store Them To Warm The Winter's Cold, The Lad That Hopes For Heaven Shall Fill His Mouth With Mould.

Good Night; Ensured Release, Imperishable Peace, Have These For Yours. * While Sky And Sea And Land And Earth's Foundations Stand And Heaven Endures. *these Three Lines Are On The Tablet Over Housman's Grave In The Parish Church At Ludlow, Shropshire, England

I Think That To Transfuse Emotion - Not To Transmit Thought But To Set Up In The Reader's Sense A Vibration Corresponding To What Was Felt By The Writer - Is The Peculiar Function Of Poetry.