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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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Incredibly, inordinately, devastatingly, immortally, calamitously, hearteningly, adorably beautiful.
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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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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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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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Proud, then, clear-eyed and laughing, go to greet Death as a friend!
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All the little emptiness of love!
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The worst of slaves is he whom passion rules.
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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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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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There's little comfort in the wise
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Just now the lilac is in bloom All before my little room.
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Youth is stranger than fiction.
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A kiss makes the heart young again and wipes out the years.
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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.
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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.
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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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Love is a breach in the walls, a broken gate, Love sells the proud heart's citadel to fate.
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
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But only agony, and that has ending And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.
Rupert Brooke