Rupert Brooke Quotes

I have been so great a lover: filled my days So proudly with the splendour of Love's praise The pain the calm and the astonishment Desire illimitable and silent content And all dear names men use to cheat despair For the perplexed and viewless streams that bear Our hearts at random down the dark of life.
Rupert Brooke
I know what things are good: friendship and work and conversation.
Rupert Brooke
If I should die think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field That is forever England.
Rupert Brooke
If I should die think only this of me that there's some corner of a foreign field that is for ever England.
Rupert Brooke
Canada is a live country - live but not like the States kicking.
Rupert Brooke
...in that rich earth a richer dust concealed.(I'm flogging a dead horse w/ this one but this is the 1st time I've even seen this quotes feature! I just wanted to post something.)
Rupert Brooke
My night shall be remembered for a starThat outshone all the suns of all men's days
Rupert Brooke
Ah God! to see the branches stirtAcross the moon at Grantchester!tTo smell the thrilling-sweet and rottentUnforgettable, unforgottentRiver-smell, and hear the breezet Sobbing in the little trees.tSay, do the elm-clumps greatly standtStill guardians of that holy land?tThe chestnuts shade, in reverend dream,tThe yet unacademic streamIs dawn a secret shy and coldtAnadyomene, silver-gold?tAnd sunset still a golden seatFrom Haslingfield to Madingley?tAnd after, ere the night is born,Do hares come out about the corn?tOh, is the water sweet and cool,tGentle and brown, above the pool?tAnd laughs the immortal river stilltUnder the mill, under the mill?Say, is there Beauty yet to find?tAnd Certainty? and Quiet kind?tDeep meadows yet, for to forgettThe lies, and truths, and pain?… oh! yettStands the Church clock at ten to three?tAnd is there honey still for tea?
Rupert Brooke
Stands the Church clock at ten to three?And is there honey still for tea?
Rupert Brooke
Spend the glittering moonlight therePursuing down the soundless deepLimbs that gleam and shadowy hair,Or floating lazy, half-asleep.Dive and double and follow after,Snare in flowers, and kiss, and call,With lips that fade, and human laughterAnd faces individual,Well this side of Paradise! . . .There's little comfort in the wise.
Rupert Brooke