A.E. Housman (1859–1936)

Oh hard is the bed they have made him,

        And common the blanket and cheap;

But there he will lie as they laid him:

        Where else could you trust him to sleep?

To sleep when the bugle is crying

        And cravens have heard and are brave,

When mothers and sweethearts are sighing

        And lads are in love with the grave.

Oh dark is the chamber and lonely,

        And lights and companions depart;

But lief will he lose them and only

        Behold the desire of his heart.

And low is the roof, but it covers

        A sleeper content to repose;

And far from his friends and his lovers

        He lies with the sweetheart he chose.