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Infinite hungers leap no more I in the chance swaying of your dress and love has changed to kindliness.

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
Leap
Dress
Dresses
Hunger
Infinite
Changed
Hungers
Chance
Kindliness
Love
Swaying

More quotes by Rupert Brooke

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Down the blue night the unending columns press In noiseless tumult, break and wave and flow
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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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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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All the little emptiness of love!
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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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Just now the lilac is in bloom All before my little room.
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Cities, like cats, will reveal themselves at night.
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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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Hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
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Proud, then, clear-eyed and laughing, go to greet Death as a friend!
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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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Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond But is there anything Beyond?
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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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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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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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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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Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear, Each secret fishy hope or fear. Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond But is there anything Beyond? This life cannot be All, they swear, For how unpleasant, if it were! One may not doubt that, somehow, Good Shall come of Water and of Mud And, sure, the reverent eye must see A Purpose in Liquidity.
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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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Youth is stranger than fiction.
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Canada is a live country - live, but not, like the States, kicking.
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