Selected Poems - Pasta blanda

Selected Poems by Rupert Brooke - 1917 -- Contents -- Day that I have Loved On the Death of Smet-Smet, the Hippopotamus-Goddess Second Best The Hill Smnet Oh Death will find me Dust Song Kindliness The Voice Mendaus and Helen The Jolly Company Thoughts on the Shape of the Human Body Town and Country The Fish Dining-room Tea The Old Vicarage, Grantchester The Funeral of Youth Beauty and Beauty The Chilterns Love The usy Heart He Wonders Whether to Praise or Blame Her Hauntings 5 One Day Sonnet Suggested by some of the Proceedings of the Society for Psychical Rerearch Clouds Mutability Heaven Tiare Tahiti Retrospect The Great Lover The Treasure rgrq I. Peace 11. Safety 111. The Dead IV. The Dead V. The Soldier Day that I have Loved T ENDERLY, day that I have loved, I close your eyes, And smooth your quiet brow, and fold your thin dead hands. The grey v d s of the half-light deepen colour dies. I bear you, a light burden, to the shrouded sands, Where lies your waiting boat, by wreaths of the seas making Mist-garlanded, with all grey weeds of the water crowned. There youll be laid, past fear of sleep or hope of waking And over the unmoving sea, without a sound, Faint hands will row you outward, out beyond our sight, Us with stretched arms and empty eyes on the fargleaming And marble sand. . . . Beyond the shifting cold twilight, Further than laughter goes, or tears, further than dreaming, 7 Therell be no port, no dawn-lit islands But the drear Waste darkening, and, at length, flame ultimate on the deep. Oh, the last fire-and you, unkissed, unfriended there Oh, the Ione ways red ending, and we not there to weep We found you pale and quiet, and strangely crowned with flowers, Lovely andsecret as a child. You came with us, Came happily, hand in hand with the young dancing hours, High on the downs at dawn Void now and tenebrous, The grey sands curve before me. . . . From the inland meadows, Fragrant of June and clover, floats the dark and fills The hollow seas dead face with little creeping shadows, And the white silence brims the hollow of thehills. 8 Close in the nest is folded every weary wing, Hushed all the joyful voices, and we, who held you dear, Eastward we turn and homeward, alone, remembering . . . Day that I loved, day that I loved, the Night is here On the Death of Smet-Smet, the Hippopotamus-Goddess SONG OF A TRIBE OF THE ANCIENT EGYPTIANS The Priests within the Temple HE was wrinkled and huge and S hideous She was our Mother. She was lustful and lewd -but a God we had none other. In the day She was hidden and dumb, but at nightfall moaned in the shade We shuddered and gave Her Her will in the darkness we were afraid. The People without She sent us pain, And we bowed before Her She smiled again And bade us adore Her. She solaced our woe And soothed our sighing And what shall we do Now God is dying P 10 The Priests within She was hungry and ate our children -how should we stay Her She took our young men and our maidens -ours to obey Her. We were loathsd and mocked and reviled of all nations that was our pride. She fed us, protected us, loved us, and killed us now She has died. The People without She was so strong But Death is stronger. She ruled us long But Time is longer...