When smoke stood up from Ludlow, <br />And mist blew off from Teme, <br />And blithe afield to ploughing <br />Against the morning beam <br />I strode beside my team, <br /> <br />The blackbird in the coppice <br />Looked out to see me stride, <br />And hearkened as I whistled <br />The trampling team beside, <br />And fluted and replied: <br /> <br />"Lie down, lie down, young yeoman; <br />What use to rise and rise? <br />Rise man a thousand mornings <br />Yet down at last he lies, <br />And then the man is wise." <br /> <br />I heard the tune he sang me, <br />And spied his yellow bill; <br />I picked a stone and aimed it <br />And threw it with a will: <br />Then the bird was still. <br /> <br />Then my soul within me <br />Took up the blackbird's strain, <br />And still beside the horses <br />Along the dewy lane <br />It sang the song again: <br /> <br />"Lie down, lie down, young yeoman; <br />The sun moves always west; <br />The road one treads to labour <br />Will lead one home to rest, <br />And that will be the best."<br /><br />Alfred Edward Housman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-smoke-stood-up-from-ludlow/
