Rupert Chawner Brooke
1887-1915
1887-1915
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.
August 1914
I have actually come across Rupert Brook whilst reading a historical account of Britain, yet have never read his poetry. I was intrigued by what I already read, and this has reminded me that I need to delve into his work! Thank you - love this series!
ReplyDeleteNell at And Nell Writes
Thanks Nell. You should discover Rupert Brook's poetry. My favourites are The Great Lover and The Soldier.
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