Poems List

Blue Evening

Blue Evening
My restless blood now lies a-quiver,
Knowing that always, exquisitely,
This April twilight on the river
Stirs anguish in the heart of me.
For the fast world in that rare glimmer
Puts on the witchery of a dream,
The straight grey buildings, richly dimmer,
The fiery windows, and the stream
With willows leaning quietly over,
The still ecstatic fading skies . . .
And all these, like a waiting lover,
Murmur and gleam, lift lustrous eyes,
Drift close to me, and sideways bending
Whisper delicious words.
But I
Stretch terrible hands, uncomprehending,
Shaken with love; and laugh; and cry.
My agony made the willows quiver;
I heard the knocking of my heart
Die loudly down the windless river,
I heard the pale skies fall apart,
And the shrill stars' unmeaning laughter,
And my voice with the vocal trees
Weeping. And Hatred followed after,
Shrilling madly down the breeze.
In peace from the wild heart of clamour,
A flower in moonlight, she was there,
Was rippling down white ways of glamour
Quietly laid on wave and air.
Her passing left no leaf a-quiver.
Pale flowers wreathed her white, white brows.
Her feet were silence on the river;
And 'Hush!' she said, between the boughs.
201

Beauty and Beauty

Beauty and Beauty
When Beauty and Beauty meet
All naked, fair to fair,
The earth is crying-sweet,
And scattering-bright the air,
Eddying, dizzying, closing round,
With soft and drunken laughter;
Veiling all that may befall
After -- after --
Where Beauty and Beauty met,
Earth's still a-tremble there,
And winds are scented yet,
And memory-soft the air,
Bosoming, folding glints of light,
And shreds of shadowy laughter;
Not the tears that fill the years
After -- after --
185

A Memory

A Memory
(From a sonnet-sequence)
Somewhile before the dawn I rose, and stept
Softly along the dim way to your room,
And found you sleeping in the quiet gloom,
And holiness about you as you slept.
I knelt there; till your waking fingers crept
About my head, and held it. I had rest
Unhoped this side of Heaven, beneath your breast.
I knelt a long time, still; nor even wept.
It was great wrong you did me; and for gain
Of that poor moment’s kindliness, and ease,
And sleepy mother-comfort!
Child, you know
How easily love leaps out to dreams like these,
Who has seen them true. And love that’s wakened so
Takes all too long to lay asleep again.
220

And love has changed to kindliness

And love has changed to kindliness
When love has changed to kindliness --
Oh, love, our hungry lips, that press
So tight that Time's an old god's dream
Nodding in heaven, and whisper stuff
Seven million years were not enough
To think on after, make it seem
Less than the breath of children playing,
A blasphemy scarce worth the saying,
A sorry jest, "When love has grown
To kindliness -- to kindliness!" . . .
And yet -- the best that either's known
Will change, and wither, and be less,
At last, than comfort, or its own
Remembrance. And when some caress
Tendered in habit (once a flame
All heaven sang out to) wakes the shame
Unworded, in the steady eyes
We'll have, -- that day, what shall we do?
Being so noble, kill the two
Who've reached their second-best? Being wise,
Break cleanly off, and get away.
Follow down other windier skies
New lures, alone? Or shall we stay,
Since this is all we've known, content
In the lean twilight of such day,
And not remember, not lament?
That time when all is over, and
Hand never flinches, brushing hand;
And blood lies quiet, for all you're near;
And it's but spoken words we hear,
Where trumpets sang; when the mere skies
Are stranger and nobler than your eyes;
And flesh is flesh, was flame before;
And infinite hungers leap no more
In the chance swaying of your dress;
And love has changed to kindliness.
192

IV: The Dead

IV: The Dead
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.
149

A Channel Passage

A Channel Passage
The damned ship lurched and slithered. Quiet and quick
My cold gorge rose; the long sea rolled; I knew
I must think hard of something, or be sick;
And could think hard of only one thing -- YOU!
You, you alone could hold my fancy ever!
And with you memories come, sharp pain, and dole.
Now there's a choice -- heartache or tortured liver!
A sea-sick body, or a you-sick soul!
Do I forget you? Retchings twist and tie me,
Old meat, good meals, brown gobbets, up I throw.
Do I remember? Acrid return and slimy,
The sobs and slobber of a last years woe.
And still the sick ship rolls. 'Tis hard, I tell ye,
To choose 'twixt love and nausea, heart and belly.
246

II: Safety

II: Safety
Dear! of all happy in the hour, most blest
He who has found our hid security,
Assured in the dark tides of the world that rest,
And heard our word, 'Who is so safe as we?'
We have found safety with all things undying,
The winds, and morning, tears of men and mirth,
The deep night, and birds singing, and clouds flying,
And sleep, and freedom, and the autumnal earth.
We have built a house that is not for Time's throwing.
We have gained a peace unshaken by pain for ever.
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.
165

I: Peace

I: Peace
Now, God be thanked Who has watched 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,
Glad from a world grown old and cold and weary,
Leave the sick hearts that honour could not move,
And half-men, and their dirty songs and dreary,
And all the little emptiness of love!
Oh! we, who have known shame, we have found release there,
Where there's no ill, no grief, but sleep has mending,
Naught broken save this body, lost but breath;
Nothing to shake the laughing heart's long peace there
But only agony, and that has ending;
And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.
171

Comments (0)

Log in to post a comment.

NoComments

Identification and basic context

Rupert Chawner Brooke was an English poet, often considered to be the most distinguished poet of the Georgian era.

Childhood and education

Born into a well-to-do family, Brooke received a comprehensive education, first at Rugby School and then at King's College, Cambridge, where he was a member of the Apostles. His early life was marked by intellectual pursuits and friendships with prominent literary figures.

Literary trajectory

Brooke's poetic career, though short, gained significant traction during World War I. His sonnets, particularly "1914," captured the public imagination with their patriotic fervor and romanticized view of war. He was associated with the Georgian poets, a group that favored traditional forms and themes.

Works, style, and literary characteristics

Brooke is best known for his war sonnets, including "The Soldier." His style is lyrical, elegant, and often employs traditional forms like the sonnet. His poetry frequently explores themes of love, beauty, England, and the perceived glory of dying for one's country. His language is accessible and his imagery often draws from nature.

Cultural and historical context

Brooke lived during a period of significant social and political change, culminating in World War I. His work resonated with the prevailing patriotic sentiment in Britain at the beginning of the conflict. He was part of a literary circle that included figures like Virginia Woolf and D.H. Lawrence.

Personal life

Brooke had complex personal relationships, including romantic involvements that influenced his poetry. He was known for his striking good looks and charismatic personality. His experiences traveling and living abroad also informed his worldview.

Recognition and reception

Brooke achieved immense posthumous fame, largely due to his heroic image and his famous war poems. He became a symbol of lost youth and patriotic sacrifice, though later critical assessments have sometimes debated the sincerity and depth of his war poetry.

Influences and legacy

Brooke was influenced by classical poets and contemporary writers. His legacy is tied to his idealized vision of warfare and his status as a war poet. He inspired a generation with his patriotic verses, even as his artistic merit has been subject to later re-evaluation.

Interpretation and critical analysis

Brooke's poetry is often interpreted as embodying a youthful, idealistic patriotism. Critics have debated whether his work represents genuine belief or a romanticized, almost naive, response to the realities of war. His lyrical qualities are generally admired, but his thematic depth has been questioned.

Curiosities and lesser-known aspects

Brooke's personal life was the subject of much fascination, with details of his relationships and friendships often discussed. His involvement in unconventional lifestyles and his charismatic presence contributed to his legendary status.

Death and memory

Rupert Brooke died of an infected mosquito bite on April 23, 1915, while en route to Gallipoli. He was buried on the Greek island of Skyros, and his death was widely mourned, solidifying his image as a fallen hero of World War I. His poems were published posthumously, further cementing his fame.