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Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond But is there anything Beyond?

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
Streams
Fish
Fishes
Beyond
Heaven
Pond
Anything
Ponds
Stream
Immortality

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Just now the lilac is in bloom All before my little room.
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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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Breathless, we flung us on a windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.
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There's little comfort in the wise
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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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A book may be compared to your neighbor: if it be good, it cannot last too long if bad, you cannot get rid of it too early.
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.. . . would I were In Grantchester, in Grantchester!
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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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A kiss makes the heart young again and wipes out the years.
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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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All the little emptiness of love!
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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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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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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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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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Infinite hungers leap no more I in the chance swaying of your dress and love has changed to kindliness.
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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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Proud, then, clear-eyed and laughing, go to greet Death as a friend!
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Incredibly, inordinately, devastatingly, immortally, calamitously, hearteningly, adorably beautiful.
Rupert Brooke
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The cool kindliness of sheets, that soon smooth away trouble and the rough male kiss of blankets.
Rupert Brooke