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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!

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
Death
Appointed
Ends
Mud
Time
Unto
Near
Somewhere
Beyond
Wetter
Space
Eddies
Water
Slime

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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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Down the blue night the unending columns press In noiseless tumult, break and wave and flow
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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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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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Incredibly, inordinately, devastatingly, immortally, calamitously, hearteningly, adorably beautiful.
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There's little comfort in the wise
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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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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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.. . . would I were In Grantchester, in Grantchester!
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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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Cities, like cats, will reveal themselves at night.
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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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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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Hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
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Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond But is there anything Beyond?
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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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Youth is stranger than fiction.
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