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Breathless, we flung us on a windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.

Rupert Brooke

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Rupert Brooke
Age: 28 †
Born: 1887
Born: January 1
Died: 1915
Died: January 1
Poet
Rugby
Warwickshire
Rupert Chawner Brooke
Rupert Chaucer Brooke
Summer
Breathless
Sun
Kissed
Nature
Hill
Laughed
Hills
Grass
Lovely
Flung
Laughter
Windy

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But only agony, and that has ending And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.
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The cool kindliness of sheets, that soon smooth away trouble and the rough male kiss of blankets.
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Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond But is there anything Beyond?
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Proud, then, clear-eyed and laughing, go to greet Death as a friend!
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Hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
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These laid the world away poured out the red Sweet wine of youth gave up the years to be Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene, That men call age and those who would have been, Their sons, they gave, their immortality.
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Love is a breach in the walls, a broken gate, Love sells the proud heart's citadel to fate.
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Incredibly, inordinately, devastatingly, immortally, calamitously, hearteningly, adorably beautiful.
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Infinite hungers leap no more I in the chance swaying of your dress and love has changed to kindliness.
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Cities, like cats, will reveal themselves at night.
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Spend in pure converse our eternal day Think each in each, immediately wise Learn all we lacked before hear, know, and say What this tumultuous body now denies And feel, who have laid our groping hands away And see, no longer blinded by our eyes.
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A kiss makes the heart young again and wipes out the years.
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I have need to busy my heart with quietude.
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There's little comfort in the wise
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And I shall find some girl perhaps, and a better one than you, With eyes as wise, but kindlier, and lips as soft, but true, and I dare say she will do.
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In your arms was still delight, Quiet as a street at night And thoughts of you, I do remember, Were green leaves in a darkened chamber, Were dark clouds in a moonless sky.
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A book may be compared to your neighbor: if it be good, it cannot last too long if bad, you cannot get rid of it too early.
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And in that Heaven of all their wish, there shall be no more land, say fish
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Canada is a live country - live, but not, like the States, kicking.
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