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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
Nature
Hill
Laughed
Hills
Grass
Lovely
Flung
Laughter
Windy
Summer
Breathless
Sun
Kissed
More quotes by Rupert Brooke
There are only three things in the world, one is to read poetry, another is to write poetry, and the best of all is to live poetry.
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The worst of slaves is he whom passion rules.
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Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond But is there anything Beyond?
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There's little comfort in the wise
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Just now the lilac is in bloom All before my little room.
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Canada is a live country - live, but not, like the States, kicking.
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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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A kiss makes the heart young again and wipes out the years.
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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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Incredibly, inordinately, devastatingly, immortally, calamitously, hearteningly, adorably beautiful.
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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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It's all a terrible tragedy. And yet, in it's details, it's great fun. And - apart from the tragedy - I've never felt happier or better in my life than in those days in Belgium.
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If I should die, think only this of me: that there's some corner of a foreign field that is for ever England.
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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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Oh! death will find me, long before I tire Of watching for you and swing me suddenly Into the shade and loneliness and mire Of the last land!
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I have been so great a lover: filled my days So proudly with the splendour of Love's praise, The pain, the calm, and the astonishment, Desire illimitable, and silent content, And all dear names men use, to cheat despair, For the perplexed and viewless streams that bear Our hearts at random down the dark of life.
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Cities, like cats, will reveal themselves at night.
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I shall desire and I shall find The best of my desires The autumn road, the mellow wind That soothes the darkening shires. And laughter, and inn-fires.
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All the little emptiness of love!
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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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