Today, a Poem

Rupert Brooke was an English poet who died in 1915, at age 27, while working for the Royal Navy Volunteer Reserve during World War I. He wrote a set of poems about the war in 1914. Here’s one piece:

1914 IV: The Dead

by Rupert Brooke

These hearts were woven of human joys and cares,
Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth.
The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs,
And sunset, and the colours of the earth.
These had seen movement, and heard music; known
Slumber and waking; loved; gone proudly friended;
Felt the quick stir of wonder; sat alone;
Touched flowers and furs and cheeks. All this is ended.

There are waters blown by changing winds to laughter
And lit by the rich skies, all day. And after,
Frost, with a gesture, stays the waves that dance
And wandering loveliness. He leaves a white
Unbroken glory, a gathered radiance,
A width, a shining peace, under the night.

brooke

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear friend, rest in peace.

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