A. E. Housman (1859–1936). A Shropshire Lad. 1896.
XXXIX. Tis time, I think, by Wenlock town
’T
The golden broom should blow;
The hawthorn sprinkled up and down
Should charge the land with snow.
Who keeps so long away;
So others wear the broom and climb
The hedgerows heaped with may.
Gold that I never see;
Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge
That will not shower on me.