Poems of Rupert Brooke [15]
One white hand on the white Unrumpled sheet, and the ever-moving hair Quiet and still at length! . . .
Your magic and your beauty and your strength, Like hills at noon or sunlight on a tree, Sleeping prevail in earth and air.
In the sweet gloom above the brown and white Night benedictions hover; and the winds of night Move gently round the room, and watch you there. And through the dreadful hours The trees and waters and the hills have kept The sacred vigil while you slept, And lay a way of dew and flowers Where your feet, your morning feet, shall tread. And still the darkness ebbs about your bed. Quiet, and strange, and loving-kind, you sleep. And holy joy about the earth is shed; And holiness upon the deep.
Finding
From the candles and dumb shadows, And the house where love had died, I stole to the vast moonlight And the whispering life outside. But I found no lips of comfort, No home in the moon's light (I, little and lone and frightened In the unfriendly night), And no meaning in the voices. . . . Far over the lands and through The dark, beyond the ocean, I willed to think of YOU! For I knew, had you been with me I'd have known the words of night, Found peace of heart, gone gladly In comfort of that light.
Oh! the wind with soft beguiling Would have stolen my thought away; And the night, subtly smiling, Came by the silver way; And the moon came down and danced to me, And her robe was white and flying; And trees bent their heads to me Mysteriously crying; And dead voices wept around me; And dead soft fingers thrilled; And the little gods whispered. . . . But ever Desperately I willed; Till all grew soft and far And silent . . . And suddenly I found you white and radiant, Sleeping quietly, Far out through the tides of darkness. And I there in that great light Was alone no more, nor fearful; For there, in the homely night, Was no thought else that mattered, And nothing else was true, But the white fire of moonlight, And a white dream of you.
Song
"Oh! Love," they said, "is King of Kings, And Triumph is his crown. Earth fades in flame before his wings, And Sun and Moon bow down." -- But that, I knew, would never do; And Heaven is all too high. So whenever I meet a Queen, I said, I will not catch her eye.
"Oh! Love," they said, and "Love," they said, "The gift of Love is this; A crown of thorns about thy head, And vinegar to thy kiss!" -- But Tragedy is not for me; And I'm content to be gay. So whenever I spied a Tragic Lady, I went another way.
And so I never feared to see You wander down the street, Or come across the fields to me On ordinary feet. For what they'd never told me of, And what I never knew; It was that all the time, my love, Love would be merely you.
The Voice
Safe in the magic of my woods I lay, and watched the dying light. Faint in the pale high solitudes, And washed with rain and veiled by night,
Silver and blue and green were showing. And the dark woods grew darker still; And birds were hushed; and peace was growing; And quietness crept up the hill;
And no wind was blowing
And I knew That this was the hour of knowing, And the night and the woods and you Were one together, and I should find Soon in the silence the hidden key Of all that had hurt and puzzled me -- Why you were you, and the night was kind, And the woods were part of the heart of me.
And there I waited breathlessly, Alone; and slowly the holy three, The three that I loved, together grew One, in the hour of knowing, Night, and the woods, and you ----
And suddenly There was an uproar in my woods,
The noise of a fool in mock distress, Crashing and laughing and blindly going, Of ignorant feet and a swishing dress, And a Voice profaning the solitudes.
The spell was broken, the key denied me And at length your flat clear voice beside me Mouthed cheerful clear flat platitudes.
You came and quacked beside me in the wood. You said, "The view from here is very good!" You
Your magic and your beauty and your strength, Like hills at noon or sunlight on a tree, Sleeping prevail in earth and air.
In the sweet gloom above the brown and white Night benedictions hover; and the winds of night Move gently round the room, and watch you there. And through the dreadful hours The trees and waters and the hills have kept The sacred vigil while you slept, And lay a way of dew and flowers Where your feet, your morning feet, shall tread. And still the darkness ebbs about your bed. Quiet, and strange, and loving-kind, you sleep. And holy joy about the earth is shed; And holiness upon the deep.
Finding
From the candles and dumb shadows, And the house where love had died, I stole to the vast moonlight And the whispering life outside. But I found no lips of comfort, No home in the moon's light (I, little and lone and frightened In the unfriendly night), And no meaning in the voices. . . . Far over the lands and through The dark, beyond the ocean, I willed to think of YOU! For I knew, had you been with me I'd have known the words of night, Found peace of heart, gone gladly In comfort of that light.
Oh! the wind with soft beguiling Would have stolen my thought away; And the night, subtly smiling, Came by the silver way; And the moon came down and danced to me, And her robe was white and flying; And trees bent their heads to me Mysteriously crying; And dead voices wept around me; And dead soft fingers thrilled; And the little gods whispered. . . . But ever Desperately I willed; Till all grew soft and far And silent . . . And suddenly I found you white and radiant, Sleeping quietly, Far out through the tides of darkness. And I there in that great light Was alone no more, nor fearful; For there, in the homely night, Was no thought else that mattered, And nothing else was true, But the white fire of moonlight, And a white dream of you.
Song
"Oh! Love," they said, "is King of Kings, And Triumph is his crown. Earth fades in flame before his wings, And Sun and Moon bow down." -- But that, I knew, would never do; And Heaven is all too high. So whenever I meet a Queen, I said, I will not catch her eye.
"Oh! Love," they said, and "Love," they said, "The gift of Love is this; A crown of thorns about thy head, And vinegar to thy kiss!" -- But Tragedy is not for me; And I'm content to be gay. So whenever I spied a Tragic Lady, I went another way.
And so I never feared to see You wander down the street, Or come across the fields to me On ordinary feet. For what they'd never told me of, And what I never knew; It was that all the time, my love, Love would be merely you.
The Voice
Safe in the magic of my woods I lay, and watched the dying light. Faint in the pale high solitudes, And washed with rain and veiled by night,
Silver and blue and green were showing. And the dark woods grew darker still; And birds were hushed; and peace was growing; And quietness crept up the hill;
And no wind was blowing
And I knew That this was the hour of knowing, And the night and the woods and you Were one together, and I should find Soon in the silence the hidden key Of all that had hurt and puzzled me -- Why you were you, and the night was kind, And the woods were part of the heart of me.
And there I waited breathlessly, Alone; and slowly the holy three, The three that I loved, together grew One, in the hour of knowing, Night, and the woods, and you ----
And suddenly There was an uproar in my woods,
The noise of a fool in mock distress, Crashing and laughing and blindly going, Of ignorant feet and a swishing dress, And a Voice profaning the solitudes.
The spell was broken, the key denied me And at length your flat clear voice beside me Mouthed cheerful clear flat platitudes.
You came and quacked beside me in the wood. You said, "The view from here is very good!" You