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The cool kindliness of sheets, that soon smooth away trouble and the rough male kiss of blankets.

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
Away
Male
Males
Kindliness
Kissing
Blankets
Bed
Blanket
Cool
Sheets
Soon
Smooth
Trouble
Rough
Sleep
Kiss

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Youth is stranger than fiction.
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Incredibly, inordinately, devastatingly, immortally, calamitously, hearteningly, adorably beautiful.
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The worst of slaves is he whom passion rules.
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Store up reservoirs of calm and content and draw on them at later moments when the source isn't there, but the need is very great.
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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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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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War knows no power. Safe shall be my going, Secretly armed against all death's endeavour Safe though all safety's lost safe where men fall And if these poor limbs die, safest of all.
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Hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
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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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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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.. . . would I were In Grantchester, in Grantchester!
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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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There's little comfort in the wise
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Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond But is there anything Beyond?
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Breathless, we flung us on a windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.
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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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