FRIENDS

He's gone.

I do not understand.

I only know

That as he turned to go

And waved his hand

In his young eyes a sudden glory shone:

And I was dazzled by a sunset glow.

And he was gone.

 

23rd April, 1915.

CONTENTS

Rupert Brooke
William Denis Browne
Tenants
Sea-change
Gold
The Old Bed
Trees
Oblivion
Retreat
Colour
Night
The Orphans
The Pessimist
?
The Sweet-Tooth
Girl's Song
The Ice Cart
To E. M.
Marriage
Roses
For G.
Home

RUPERT BROOKE

I.

Your face was lifted to the golden sky

Ablaze beyond the black roofs of the square,

As flame on flame leapt, flourishing in air

Its tumult of red stars exultantly,

To the cold constellations dim and high;

And as we neared, the roaring ruddy flare

Kindled to gold your throat and brow and hair

Until you burned, a flame of ecstasy.

 

The golden head goes down into the night

Quenched in cold gloom--and yet again you stand

Beside me now with lifted face alight,

As, flame to flame, and fire to fire you burn...

Then, recollecting, laughingly you turn,

And look into my eyes and take my hand.

II.

Once in my garret--you being far away

Tramping the hills and breathing upland air,

Or so I fancied--brooding in my chair,

I watched the London sunshine feeble and grey

Dapple my desk, too tired to labour more,

When, looking up, I saw you standing there,

Although I'd caught no footstep on the stair,

Like sudden April at my open door.

 

Though now beyond earth's farthest hills you fare,

Song-crowned, immortal, sometimes it seems to me