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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
Lovely
Flung
Laughter
Windy
Summer
Breathless
Sun
Kissed
Nature
Hill
Laughed
Hills
Grass

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But only agony, and that has ending And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.
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And in that Heaven of all their wish, there shall be no more land, say fish
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But there's wisdom in women, of more than they have known, And thoughts go blowing through them, are wiser than their own.
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Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond But is there anything Beyond?
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Now, God be thanked Who has matched us with His hour, And caught our youth, and wakened us from sleeping, With hand made sure, clear eye, and sharpened power, To turn, as swimmers into cleanness leaping.
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I have need to busy my heart with quietude.
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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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The worst of slaves is he whom passion rules.
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Canada is a live country - live, but not, like the States, kicking.
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.. . . would I were In Grantchester, in Grantchester!
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Cities, like cats, will reveal themselves at night.
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Mud unto mud!--Death eddies near-- Not here the appointed End, not here! But somewhere, beyond Space and Time, Is wetter water, slimier slime!
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A kiss makes the heart young again and wipes out the years.
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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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There's little comfort in the wise
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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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All the little emptiness of love!
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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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