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Hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

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
English
Hearts
Heaven
Peace
Heart

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Cities, like cats, will reveal themselves at night.
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Down the blue night the unending columns press In noiseless tumult, break and wave and flow
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Canada is a live country - live, but not, like the States, kicking.
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.. . . would I were In Grantchester, in Grantchester!
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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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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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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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Breathless, we flung us on a windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.
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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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Infinite hungers leap no more I in the chance swaying of your dress and love has changed to kindliness.
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Youth is stranger than fiction.
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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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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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Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear, Each secret fishy hope or fear. Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond But is there anything Beyond? This life cannot be All, they swear, For how unpleasant, if it were! One may not doubt that, somehow, Good Shall come of Water and of Mud And, sure, the reverent eye must see A Purpose in Liquidity.
Rupert Brooke
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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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There are only three things in the world, one is to read poetry, another is to write poetry, and the best of all is to live poetry.
Rupert Brooke
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And in that Heaven of all their wish, there shall be no more land, say fish
Rupert Brooke
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All the little emptiness of love!
Rupert Brooke
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Incredibly, inordinately, devastatingly, immortally, calamitously, hearteningly, adorably beautiful.
Rupert Brooke
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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!
Rupert Brooke