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Rupert Brooke
1887 - 1915
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Hauntings
In the grey tumult of these after years / Oft silence falls; the incessant wranglers part; / And less-than-echoes of remembered tears
He Wonders Whether To Praise Or To Blame Her
I have peace to weigh your worth, now all is over, / But if to praise or blame you, cannot say. / For, who decries the loved, decries the lover;
Heaven
Fish (fly-replete, in depth of June, / Dawdling away their wat'ry noon) / Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear,
In Examination
Lo! from quiet skies / In through the window my Lord the Sun! / And my eyes
It's Not Going to Happen Again
I have known the most dear that is granted us here, / More supreme than the gods know above, / Like a star I was hurled through the sweet of the world,
Jealousy
When I see you, who were so wise and cool, / Gazing with silly sickness on that fool / You've given your love to, your adoring hands
Libido
How should I know? The enormous wheels of will / Drove me cold-eyed on tired and sleepless feet. / Night was void arms and you a phantom still,
Lines Written In The Belief That The Ancient Roman Festival Of The Dead Was Called Ambarvalia
Swings the way still by hollow and hill, / And all the world's a song; / "She's far," it sings me, "but fair," it rings me,
Mary And Gabriel
Young Mary, loitering once her garden way, / Felt a warm splendour grow in the April day, / As wine that blushes water through. And soon,
Menelaus And Helen
I / Hot through Troy's ruin Menelaus broke / To Priam's palace, sword in hand, to sate
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