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There Pass the Careless People


There pass the careless people

     That call their souls their own;

Here by the road I loiter,

     How idle and alone.


Ah, past the plunge of plummet,

     In seas I cannot sound,

My heart and soul and senses,

     World without end, are drowned.


His folly has not fellow

     Beneath the blue of day

That gives to man or woman

     His heart and soul away.


There flowers no balm to sain him

     From east of earth to west

That's lost for everlasting

     The heart out of his breast.


Here by the labouring highway

     With empty hands I stroll:

Sea-deep, till doomsday morning,

     Lie lost my heart and soul.


A.E. Housman




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