In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had:The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore;And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same born as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year:Whether in the woodland brown heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale;Or littering far the fields of Malady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a sky lit water stood The bluebells in the azure wood. Yonder, lightening other loads, The season range the country roads, But here in London streets I Kenny such helpmates, only men;And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another's care. They have enough as 'tis: I seen many an eye that measures Bethe mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they canis to hate their fellow man;And till they drop they need must still Look at you and wish you ill.

A Shropshire Lad