Song - Rupert Brooke

poem: Song

1913; taken from the 1918 edition
of The Collected Poems of Rupert Brooke, With a Memoir.

The way of love was thus.
He was born one wintry morn
With hands delicious,
And it was well with us.

Love came our quiet way,
Lit pride in us, and died in us,
All in a winter's day.
There is no more to say.

poem by Rupert Brooke