Monday, 11 November 2019

Sonnet


Sonnet

Not with vain tears, when we're beyond the sun, 
We'll beat on the substantial doors, nor tread
Those dusty high-roads of the aimless dead
Plaintive for Earth; but rather turn and run
Down some close-covered by-way of the air,
Some low sweet alley between wind and wind,
Stoop under faint gleams, thread the shadows, find
Some whispering ghost-forgotten nook, and there

Spend in pure converse our eternal day;
Think each in each, immediately wise;
Learn all we lacked before; hear, know and say
What this tumultuous body now denies;
And feel, who have laid our groping hands away;
And see, no longer blinded by our eyes.

Rupert Brooke, 1913



2 comments:

  1. Hands on hearts, thank you to those who served and protected freedom.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Absolutely Sam. We are indebted to them. Arilx

      Delete

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