The Collected Poems of Rupert Brooke by Rupert Brooke
page 58 of 147 (39%)
page 58 of 147 (39%)
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They did not know his hymns
Were silence; and her limbs, That had served Love so well, Dust, and a filthy smell. And so one day, as ever of old, Hands out, they hurried, knee to knee; On fire to cling and kiss and hold And, in the other's eyes, to see Each his own tiny face, And in that long embrace Feel lip and breast grow warm To breast and lip and arm. So knee to knee they sped again, And laugh to laugh they ran, I'm told, Across the streets of Hell . . . And then They suddenly felt the wind blow cold, And knew, so closely pressed, Chill air on lip and breast, And, with a sick surprise, The emptiness of eyes. Town and Country |
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