A Shropshire Lad/Now hollow fires burn out to black

by Alfred Edward Housman

LX

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.

 

❦