Quote

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.

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
Call
Immortality
Age
Red
Away
Son
Work
Wine
Years
Gave
Poured
Would
Youth
Serene
Men
Sweet
Sons
World
Joy
Laid

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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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Love is a breach in the walls, a broken gate, Love sells the proud heart's citadel to fate.
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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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And in that Heaven of all their wish, there shall be no more land, say fish
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Cities, like cats, will reveal themselves at night.
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I have need to busy my heart with quietude.
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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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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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Proud, then, clear-eyed and laughing, go to greet Death as a friend!
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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 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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All the little emptiness of love!
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Just now the lilac is in bloom All before my little room.
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A kiss makes the heart young again and wipes out the years.
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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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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 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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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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Hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
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