Peace
Rupert Brooke
Now, God be thanked Who has matched us with His hour, And caught our youth, and wakened us from sleeping, With hand made sure, clear eye, and sharpened power, To turn, as swimmers into cleanness leaping, Glad from a world grown old and cold and weary, Leave the sick hearts that honour could not move, And half-men, and their dirty songs and dreary, And all the little emptiness of love! Oh! we, who have known shame, we have found release there, Where there’s no ill, no grief, but sleep has mending, Naught broken save this body, lost but breath; Nothing to shake the laughing heart’s long peace there But only agony, and that has ending; And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.
Next 10 Poems
- Rupert Brooke : Pine-trees And The Sky: Evening
- Rupert Brooke : Retrospect
- Rupert Brooke : Safety
- Rupert Brooke : Seaside
- Rupert Brooke : Second Best
- Rupert Brooke : Sleeping Out: Full Moon
- Rupert Brooke : Sometimes Even Now
- Rupert Brooke : Song
- Rupert Brooke : Song ( Ii )
- Rupert Brooke : Song ( Iii )
Previous 10 Poems
- Rupert Brooke : Paralysis
- Rupert Brooke : One Day
- Rupert Brooke : One Before The Last, The
- Rupert Brooke : On The Death Of Smet-smet, The Hippopotamus- Goddess
- Rupert Brooke : Old Vicarage, The - Grantchester
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