There, by the starlit fences The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs.
A. E. HousmanRead
Give crowns and pounds and guineas But not your heart away; Give pearls away and rubies, But keep your fancy free.
Interpretation
The quote suggests that material wealth is less valuable than emotional attachment and freedom in love.
In this quote, A. E. Housman conveys the idea that while it is acceptable to give away material possessions, one should protect their heart and emotions. The metaphor of giving away crowns and jewels represents the idea of generosity, but the emphasis on keeping one's 'fancy free' highlights the importance of emotional independence and the caution against becoming too attached or losing oneself in romantic ventures.
In practice
In a wedding speech to emphasize the importance of emotional bonds over material gifts.
There, by the starlit fences The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs.
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.
I am not a pessimist but a pejorist (as George Eliot said she was not an optimist but a meliorist); and that philosophy is founded on my observation of the world, not on anything so trivial and irrelevant as personal history.
Lovers lying two and two Ask not whom they sleep beside, And the bridegroom all night through Never turns him to the bride.
And malt does more than Milton can to justify God's ways to man.
Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking_x000D_ _x000D_ Spins the heavy world around.
A purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved.
Love prefers twilight to daylight.
I prefer by far the warmth and softness to mere brilliancy and coldness. Some people remind me of sharp dazzling diamonds. Valuable but lifeless and loveless. Others, of the simplest field flowers, with hearts full of dew and with all the tints of celestial beauty reflected in their modest petals.
Somebody," said Jacques, "your father or mine, should have told us that not many people have ever died of love. But multitudes have perished, and are perishing every hour - and in the oddest places! - for the lack of it.
It always boils down to the same thing - not only receiving love, but desperately needing to give it.
We live on the flat, on the level, and yet - and so - we aspire. Groundlings, we can sometimes reach as far as the gods. Some soar with art, others with religion; most with love. But when we soar, we can also crash. There are few soft landings. We may find ourselves bouncing across the ground with leg-fracting force, dragged towards some foreign railway line. Every love story is a potential grief story. If not at first, then later. If not for one, then for the other. Sometimes, for both.
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