Way That Lovers Use, The
The way that lovers use is this;
They bow, catch hands, with never a word,
And their lips meet, and they do kiss,
-- So I have heard.
They queerly find some healing so,
And strange attainment in the touch;
There is a secret lovers know,
-- I have read as much.
And theirs no longer joy nor smart,
Changing or ending, night or day;
But mouth to mouth, and heart on heart,
-- So lovers say.
poem by Rupert Brooke
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The Way that Lovers use
The way that lovers use is this;
They bow, catch hands, with never a word,
And their lips meet, and they do kiss,
- So I have heard.
They queerly find some healing so,
And strange attainment in the touch;
There is a secret lovers know,
- I have read as much.
And theirs no longer joy nor smart,
Changing or ending, night or day;
But mouth to mouth, and heart on heart,
- So lovers say.
poem by Rupert Brooke (1913)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Song (1912)
All suddenly the wind comes soft,
And Spring is here again;
And the hawthorn quickens with buds of green,
A nd my heart with buds of pain.
My heart all Winter lay so numb,
The earth so dead and frore,
That I never thought the Spring would come,
Or my heart wake any more.
But Winter's broken and earth has woken,
And the small birds cry again;
And the hawthorn hedge puts forth its buds,
And my heart puts forth its pain.
poem by Rupert Brooke (1912)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Fafaia
Stars that seem so close and bright,
Watched by lovers through the night,
Swim in emptiness, men say,
Many a mile and year away.
And yonder star that burns so white,
May have died to dust and night
Ten, or maybe, fifteen year,
Before it shines upon my dear.
Oh! often among men below,
Heart cries out to heart, I know,
And one is dust a many years,
Child, before the other hears.
Heart from heart is all as far,
Fafaia, as star from star.
poem by Rupert Brooke (1913)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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 -
poem by Rupert Brooke (1913)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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There's Wisdom in Women
'Oh love is fair, and love is rare;' my dear one she said,
'But love goes lightly over.' I bowed her foolish head,
And kissed her hair and laughed at her. Such a child was she;
So new to love, so true to love, and she spoke so bitterly.
But there's wisdom in women, of more than they have known,
And thoughts go blowing through them, are wiser than their own,
Or how should my dear one, being ignorant and young,
Have cried on love so bitterly, with so true a tongue?
poem by Rupert Brooke (1913)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Treasure, The
When colour goes home into the eyes,
And lights that shine are shut again
With dancing girls and sweet birds' cries
Behind the gateways of the brain;
And that no-place which gave them birth, shall close
The rainbow and the rose: --
Still may Time hold some golden space
Where I'll unpack that scented store
Of song and flower and sky and face,
And count, and touch, and turn them o'er,
Musing upon them; as a mother, who
Has watched her children all the rich day through
Sits, quiet-handed, in the fading light,
When children sleep, ere night.
poem by Rupert Brooke
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The Treasure
When colour goes home into the eyes,
And lights that shine are shut again,
With dancing girls and sweet birds' cries
Behind the gateways of the brain;
And that no-place which gave them birth, shall close
The rainbow and the rose:-
Still may Time hold some golden space
Where I'll unpack that scented store
Of song and flower and sky and face,
And count, and touch, and turn them o'er,
Musing upon them; as a mother, who
Has watched her children all the rich day through,
Sits, quiet-handed, in the fading light,
When children sleep, ere night.
poem by Rupert Brooke (1914)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sonnet in Time of Revolt
The Thing must End. I am no boy ! I AM
No BOY!! being twenty-one. Uncle, you make
A great mistake, a very great mistake,
In chiding me for letting slip a 'Damn!'
What's more, you called me 'Mother's one ewe lamb,'
Bade me 'refrain from swearing for her sake
Till I'm grown up' ... - By God! I think you take
Too much upon you, Uncle William!
You say I am your brother's only son.
I know it. And, 'What of it?' I reply.
My heart's resolvéd. Something must be done.
So shall I curb, so baffle, so suppress
This too avuncular officiousness,
Intolerable consanguinity.
poem by Rupert Brooke (1908)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Wagner
Creeps in half wanton, half asleep,
One with a fat wide hairless face.
He likes love-music that is cheap;
Likes women in a crowded place;
And wants to hear the noise they're making.
His heavy eyelids droop half-over,
Great pouches swing beneath his eyes.
He listens, thinks himself the lover,
Heaves from his stomach wheezy sighs;
He likes to feel his heart's a-breaking.
The music swells. His gross legs quiver.
His little lips are bright with slime.
The music swells. The women shiver.
And all the while, in perfect time,
His pendulous stomach hangs a-shaking.
poem by Rupert Brooke (1908)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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