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Down the blue night the unending columns press In noiseless tumult, break and wave and flow

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
Night
Columns
Presses
Press
Wave
Clouds
Flow
Noiseless
Blue
Tumult
Break
Unending

More quotes by Rupert Brooke

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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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Infinite hungers leap no more I in the chance swaying of your dress and love has changed to kindliness.
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The worst of slaves is he whom passion rules.
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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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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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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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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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The cool kindliness of sheets, that soon smooth away trouble and the rough male kiss of blankets.
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There's little comfort in the wise
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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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Incredibly, inordinately, devastatingly, immortally, calamitously, hearteningly, adorably beautiful.
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Cities, like cats, will reveal themselves at night.
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A kiss makes the heart young again and wipes out the years.
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Canada is a live country - live, but not, like the States, kicking.
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But only agony, and that has ending And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.
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Just now the lilac is in bloom All before my little room.
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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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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.
Rupert Brooke
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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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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