Last Poems by A. E. Housman

But air of other summers
Breathed from beyond the snows,
And I had hope of those.

I know not if it rains, my love,
In the land where you do lie;
And oh, so sound you sleep, my love,
You know no more than I.

In the blue and silver morning
On the haycock as they lay,
Oh they looked at one another
And they looked away.