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There's little comfort in the wise

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
Little
Comfort
Wise
Littles

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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A kiss makes the heart young again and wipes out the years.
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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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Love is a breach in the walls, a broken gate, Love sells the proud heart's citadel to fate.
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The worst of slaves is he whom passion rules.
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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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.. . . 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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Incredibly, inordinately, devastatingly, immortally, calamitously, hearteningly, adorably beautiful.
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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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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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Canada is a live country - live, but not, like the States, kicking.
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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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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.
Rupert Brooke
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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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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.
Rupert Brooke
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Hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
Rupert Brooke
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And in that Heaven of all their wish, there shall be no more land, say fish
Rupert Brooke