Favourite Poems 1: Reveille, by A E Housman

You may eventually tire of my sub-themes in this blog, but you are going to get them anyway. And this is the first one with the Favourite Poem label. There will be more. I like poems, and you should like them too. There, I said it. 

Reveille

Wake: the silver dusk returning
Up the beach of darkness brims,
And the ship of sunrise burning
Strands upon the eastern rims.

Wake: the vaulted shadow shatters,
Trampled to the floor it spanned,
And the tent of night in tatters
Straws the sky-pavilioned land.

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.

Up, lad: thews that lie and cumber
Sunlit pallets never thrive;
Morns abed and daylight slumber
Were not meant for man alive.

Clay lies still, but blood's a rover;
Breath's a ware that will not keep.
Up, lad: when the journey's over
There'll be time enough to sleep.

A.E Housman (1859-1936)

I only read this poem for the first time today, but already it has become an instant favourite. I knew and liked many Housman poems and so did Cro. The Cherry Blossom poem was a big favourite of Far, Cro's father and my late father-in-law. In fact it was something he could clearly remember on his deathbed, so it lodged deep.

The thing I like about this poem is that - as well as clearly hitting exactly the right note for my current circumstances - it uses simple language in a gloriously rich way. Housman is like that, the old trickster. 'Brims' and 'Strands' are not often used as verbs, but they can be, so why not as they are so on the money. And towns and countries, why can they not 'woo together'. "I'm Plovdiv, pick me!" "I'm Peru, you know you really really want to..." And I love the clear fact that forelands can beacon.

And then old foreman A E calls his apprentice to the work of life. This is no time to be abed. For as we know:

Clay lies still, but blood's a rover;
Breath's a ware that will not keep.
Up, lad: when the journey's over
There'll be time enough to sleep.

And breath is indeed a ware that will not keep. It needs to be used on that unexpected conversation with the person on the bus. On telling someone you love that you love them. On playing that last reel when you really should be going home. On living. My plan.