A Shropshire Lad · A. E. Housman

Chapter LX

61 of 64 · 1 min of reading

Now hollow fires burn out to black,

And lights are guttering low:

Square your shoulders, lift your pack,

And leave your friends and go.

Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread,

Look not left nor right:

In all the endless road you tread

There's nothing but the night.

· · ·

End of part 61 of 64