Thursday, April 25, 2024

The True Lover (by A.E. Housman). Poem 53 of A Shropshire Lad.




The True Lover


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.


The poem with the stressed

syllables underlined:


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.


   This poem is clearly inspired by folklore:

the dead lover returning to visit his living

lover. In other versions, it is a fairy,

brownie, vampire, or some other sort of

sinister supernatural being that visits the

girl. Usually, the girl cannot see clearly

the being and her danger. The Holland

Handkerchief, a popular song of the

period, has a similar theme. In this case,

the girl cannot see that her boyfriend has

killed himself by cutting his throat (due to

some disappointment with her or their

affair?) The chilling last verse cuts away

from the story just when the girl would

have no doubt let loose a terrified scream.



© C.A. MacLennan 2024