"The True Lover" (A Poem)

I have always held a deep fondness for the poetry of Alfred Edward Housman. His precise and melodious rhymes often explore the fragility of humankind. A professor of Latin at University College London and, later, Cambridge, Housman spent much of his life pining for the love of Moses Jackson, his fellow classmate from St. John’s College in Oxford. As a result, much of his work possesses a somber pain. In “The True Lover,” the poet weaves a disturbing story of the macabre actions undertaken by one man to prove his enduring love. 

The lad came to the door at night, 
When lovers crown their vows, 
And whistled soft and out of sight 
In shadow of the boughs.

"I shall not vex you with my face 
Henceforth, my love, for aye; 
So take me in your arms a space 
Before the east is grey."

"When I from hence away am past
I shall not find a bride, 
And you shall be the first and last 
I ever lay beside."

She heard and went and knew not why; 
Her heart to his she laid; 
Light was the air beneath the sky 
But dark under the shade.

"Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast 
Seems not to rise and fall, 
And here upon my bosom prest 
There beats no heart at all?"

"Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock, 
You should have felt it then; 
But since for you I stopped the clock 
It never goes again."

"Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips 
Wet from your neck on mine? 
What is it falling on my lips, 
My lad, that tastes of brine?"

"Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear, 
For when the knife has slit 
The throat across from ear to ear 
'Twill bleed because of it."

Under the stars the air was light 
But dark below the boughs, 
The still air of the speechless night, 
When lovers crown their vows. 

Works Referenced

Housman, Alfred Edward. “The True Lover.” The Collected Poems of A.E. Housman. New York, Henry Holt and Company, 1965. Pages 78-79.