III - The Recruit
Leave your home behind, lad,
  
And reach your friends your hand,
And go, and luck go with you
  
While Ludlow tower shall stand.
Oh, come you home of Sunday
  
When Ludlow streets are still
And Ludlow bells are calling
  
To farm and lane and mill,
Or come you home of Monday
  
When Ludlow market hums
And Ludlow chimes are playing
  
‘The conquering hero comes,’
Come you home a hero,
  
Or come not home at all,
The lads you leave will mind you
  
Till Ludlow tower shall fall.
And you will list the bugle
  
That blows in lands of morn,
And make the foes of England
  
Be sorry you were born.
And you till trump of doomsday
  
On lands of morn may lie,
And make the hearts of comrades
  
Be heavy where you die.
Leave your home behind you,
  
Your friends by field and town:
Oh, town and field will mind you
  
Till Ludlow tower is down.
A.E. Housman, A Shropshire Lad
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