



Produced by Al Haines.





                            *Selected Poems*


                           *by Rupert Brooke*



                                 London
                        Sidgwick & Jackson, Ltd.
                            3 Adam St., W.C.
                                  1922




                       First Edition, March 1917
                     Second Impression, April 1917
                       Third Impression, May 1918
                    Fourth Impression, February 1919
                     Fifth Impression, January 1920
                     Sixth Impression, January 1922

                          All rights reserved




*Contents*

Day that I have Loved
On the Death of Smet-Smet, the Hippopotamus-Goddess
Second Best
The Hill
Sonnet ("Oh! Death will find me")
Dust
Song
Kindliness
The Voice
Menelaus and Helen
The Jolly Company
Thoughts on the Shape of the Human Body
Town and Country
The Fish
Dining-room Tea
The Old Vicarage, Grantchester
The Funeral of Youth
Beauty and Beauty
The Chilterns
Love
The Busy Heart
He Wonders Whether to Praise or Blame Her
Hauntings
One Day
Sonnet (_Suggested by some of the Proceedings
of the Society for Psychical Research_)
Clouds
Mutability
Heaven
Tiare Tahiti
Retrospect
The Great Lover
The Treasure
1914:
   I. Peace
   II. Safety
   III. The Dead
   IV. The Dead
   V. The Soldier




                        *Day that I have Loved*

    Tenderly, day that I have loved, I close your eyes,
      And smooth your quiet brow, and fold your thin dead hands.
    The grey veils of the half-light deepen; colour dies.
      I bear you, a light burden, to the shrouded sands,

    Where lies your waiting boat, by wreaths of the sea's making
      Mist-garlanded, with all grey weeds of the water crowned.
    There you'll be laid, past fear of sleep or hope of waking;
      And over the unmoving sea, without a sound,

    Faint hands will row you outward, out beyond our sight,
      Us with stretched arms and empty eyes on the far-gleaming
    And marble sand....
        Beyond the shifting cold twilight,
      Further than laughter goes, or tears, further than dreaming,

    There'll be no port, no dawn-lit islands!  But the drear
      Waste darkening, and, at length, flame ultimate on the deep.
    Oh, the last fire--and you, unkissed, unfriended there!
      Oh, the lone way's red ending, and we not there to weep!

    (We found you pale and quiet, and strangely crowned with
            flowers,
      Lovely and secret as a child.  You came with us,
    Came happily, hand in hand with the young dancing hours,
      High on the downs at dawn!)  Void now and tenebrous,

    The grey sands curve before me....
        From the inland meadows,
      Fragrant of June and clover, floats the dark and fills
    The hollow sea's dead face with little creeping shadows,
      And the white silence brims the hollow of the hills.

    Close in the nest is folded every weary wing,
      Hushed all the joyful voices, and we, who held you dear,
    Eastward we turn and homeward, alone, remembering...
      Day that I loved, day that I loved, the Night is here!




                    *On the Death of Smet-Smet, the
                         Hippopotamus-Goddess*

                SONG OF A TRIBE OF THE ANCIENT EGYPTIANS

                   (_The Priests within the Temple_)

    She was wrinkled and huge and hideous?
    She was our Mother.
    She was lustful and lewd?--but a God; we had none other.
    In the day She was hidden and dumb, but at nightfall moaned in
            the shade;
    We shuddered and gave Her Her will in the darkness; we were
            afraid.

    (_The People without_)

    She sent us pain,
      And we bowed before Her;
    She smiled again
      And bade us adore Her.
    She solaced our woe
      And soothed our sighing;
    And what shall we do
      Now God is dying?

    (_The Priests within_)

    She was hungry and ate our children;--how should we stay Her?
    She took our young men and our maidens;--ours to obey Her.
    We were loathed and mocked and reviled of all nations; that was
            our pride.
    She fed us, protected us, loved us, and killed us; now She has
            died.

    (_The People without_)

    She was so strong;
      But Death is stronger.
    She ruled us long;
      But Time is longer.
    She solaced our woe
      And soothed our sighing;
    And what shall we do
      Now God is dying?




                             *Second Best*

    Here in the dark, O heart;
    Alone with the enduring Earth, and Night,
    And Silence, and the warm strange smell of clover;
    Clear-visioned, though it break you; far apart
    From the dead best, the dear and old delight;
    Throw down your dreams of immortality,
    O faithful, O foolish lover!

    Here's peace for you, and surety; here the one
    Wisdom--the truth!--"All day the good glad sun
    Showers love and labour on you, wine and song;
    The greenwood laughs, the wind blows, all day long
    Till night."  And night ends all things.
      Then shall be
    No lamp relumed in heaven, no voices crying,
    Or changing lights, or dreams and forms that hover!
    (And, heart, for all your sighing,
    That gladness and those tears are over, over....)

    And has the truth brought no new hope at all,
    Heart, that you're weeping yet for Paradise?
    Do they still whisper, the old weary cries?
    "_'Mid youth and song, feasting and carnival,_
    _Through laughter, through the roses, as of old_
    _Comes Death, on shadowy and relentless feet,_
    _Death, unappeasable by prayer or gold;_
    _Death is the end, the end!_"
    Proud, then, clear-eyed and laughing, go to greet
    Death as a friend!
    Exile of immortality, strongly wise,
    Strain through the dark with undesirous eyes
    To what may lie beyond it.  Sets your star,
    O heart, for ever!  Yet, behind the night,
    Waits for the great unborn, somewhere