Irish poets, learn your trade, sing whatever is well made, scorn the sort now growing up all out of shape from toe to top
Stars
by A. E. Housman
Stars, I have seen them fall,
But when they drop and die
No star is lost at all
From all the star-sown sky.
The toil of all that be
Helps not the primal fault;
It rains into the sea,
And still the sea is salt.
