Love

Rupert Brooke

Love is a breach in the walls, a broken gate,
 Where that comes in that shall not go again;
Love sells the proud heart's citadel to Fate.
 They have known shame, who love unloved.  Even then,
When two mouths, thirsty each for each, find slaking,
 And agony's forgot, and hushed the crying
Of credulous hearts, in heaven -- such are but taking
 Their own poor dreams within their arms, and lying
Each in his lonely night, each with a ghost.
 Some share that night.  But they know love grows colder,
Grows false and dull, that was sweet lies at most.
 Astonishment is no more in hand or shoulder,
But darkens, and dies out from kiss to kiss.
All this is love; and all love is but this.

Next 10 Poems

• Rupert Brooke : Mary And Gabriel
• Rupert Brooke : Menelaus And Helen
• Rupert Brooke : Mummia
• Rupert Brooke : Mutability
• Rupert Brooke : Night Journey, The
• Rupert Brooke : Now, God Be Thanked Who Has Matched Us With His Hour
• Rupert Brooke : Oh! Death Will Find Me, Long Before I Tire
• Rupert Brooke : Old Vicarage, The - Grantchester
• Rupert Brooke : On The Death Of Smet-smet, The Hippopotamus- Goddess
• Rupert Brooke : One Before The Last, The

Previous 10 Poems

• Rupert Brooke : Lines Written In The Belief That The Ancient Roman Festival Of The Dead Was Called Ambarvalia
• Rupert Brooke : Life Beyond, The
• Rupert Brooke : Libido
• Rupert Brooke : Kindliness
• Rupert Brooke : Jolly Company, The
• Rupert Brooke : Jealousy
• Rupert Brooke : Iv. The Dead
• Rupert Brooke : It's Not Going To Happen Again
• Rupert Brooke : In Time Of Revolt
• Rupert Brooke : In Examination