Rupert Brooke Quotes

Breathless, we flung us on a windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.

lovely sun grass

And in that Heaven of all their wish, there shall be no more land, say fish

heaven fish land

A pulse in the eternal mind, no less, gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given. Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day; and laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness, in hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

dreams mind peace hearts heaven happy friends thoughts laughter day eternal sounds english england gentleness

But somewhere, beyond space and time, is wetter water, slimier slime! And there (they trust) there swimmeth one, who swam ere rivers were begun. Immense, of fishy form and mind, squamous, omnipotent, and kind.

trust mind time kind space water rivers form

A book may be compared to your neighbor: if it be good, it cannot last too long; if bad, you cannot get rid of it too early.

good book bad neighbor early

And see, no longer blinded by our eyes.

eyes

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.

poetry literature

Ah God! To see the branches stir Across the moon at Grantchester! To smell the thrilling-sweet and rotten Unforgettable, unforgotten River-smell, and hear the breeze Sobbing in the little trees. Say, do the elm-clumps greatly stand Still guardians of that holy land? The chestnuts shade, in reverend dream, The yet unacademic streamIs dawn a secret shy and cold Anadyomene, silver-gold? And sunset still a golden sea From Haslingfield to Madingley? And after, ere the night is born, Do hares come out about the corn? Oh, is the water sweet and cool, Gentle and brown, above the pool? And laughs the immortal river still Under the mill, under the mill?Say, is there Beauty yet to find? And Certainty? And Quiet kind? Deep meadows yet, for to forget The lies, and truths, and pain? Oh! Yet Stands the Church clock at ten to three? And is there honey still for tea?

memories melancholy reminiscence