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Rupert Chawner Brooke (Руперт Брук)


The Vision of the Archangels


Slowly up silent peaks, the white edge of the world,
Trod four archangels, clear against the unheeding sky,
Bearing, with quiet even steps, and great wings furled,
A little dingy coffin; where a child must lie,
It was so tiny. (Yet, you had fancied, God could never
Have bidden a child turn from the spring and the sunlight,
And shut him in that lonely shell, to drop for ever
Into the emptiness and silence, into the night.…)

They then from the sheer summit cast, and watched it fall,
Through unknown glooms, that frail black coffin—and therein
God’s little pitiful Body lying, worn and thin,
And curled up like some crumpled, lonely flower petal—
Till it was no more visible; then turned again
With sorrowful quiet faces downward to the plain. 



Rupert Chawner Brooke's other poems:
  1. He Wonders Whether to Praise or to Blame Her
  2. Thoughts on the Shape of the Human Body
  3. Sometimes Even Now I May
  4. Pine-Trees and the Sky: Evening
  5. The Song of the Beasts


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