On Wenlock Edge

This is one of my favourite poems from The Shropshire Lad by A E Houseman. Very Buddhist in it's reference to impermanence and a good one to read when overwhelmed by life's troubles. It will restore a sense of perspective to any problems.

On wenlock Edge

On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble;

His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves;

The gale it plies the saplings double,

And thick on Severn snow the leaves.

'Twould blow like this through holt and hanger

when Uricon the city stood;

'Tis the old wind in the old anger,

But then it threshed another wood.

Then 'twas before my time, the Roman

At yonder heaving hill would stare:

The blood that warms an English yeoman,

The thoughts that hurt him, they were there.

There, like the wind through woods in riot,

Through him the gale of life blew high;

The tree of life was never quiet:

Then 'twas the Roman, now 'tis I.

The gale it plies the saplings double,

It blows so hard, 'twill soon be gone:

To-day the Roman and his trouble,

Are ashes under Uricon.