When I was close upon sixteen there appeared a book of poems which was quickly recognised by the judges of literature as a classic. From that verdict there has never been any appeal. A Shropshire Lad is one of the great achievements of English poetry. The author’s vernacular English is chiselled to a Greek perfection, his metrical mastery is triumphant. Until 1922 he published no further collection. To one familiar with A Shropshire Lad, Professor A. E. Housman’s Last Poems betray a notable falling off. Very few of these pieces are worthy to rank with those of the earlier volume; and that which seems to me by far the best I well remember reading in some periodical (was it the excellent Monthly Review?) about thirty years ago, a masterpiece of verbal and rhythmic beauty.