Tomorrow, More's The Pity, Away We Both

Shoulder The Sky, My Lad, And Drink Your Ale.

Mithridates, He Died Old. Housman's Passage Is Based On The Belief Of The Ancients That Mithridates The Great [c. 135-63 B.c.] Had So Saturated His Body With Poisons That None Could Injure Him. When Captured By The Romans He Tried In Vain To Poison Himself, Then Ordered A Gallic Mercenary To Kill Him.

Three Minutes Thought Would Suffice To Find This Out; But Thought Is Irksome And Three Minutes Is A Long Time.

Stone, Steel, Dominions Pass, Faith Too, No Wonder; So Leave Alone The Grass That I Am Under.

Who Made The World I Cannot Tell; 'tis Made, And Here Am I In Hell. My Hand, Though Now My Knuckles Bleed, I Never Soiled With Such A Deed.