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Rupert Chawner Brooke (Руперт Брук)


* * *


Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire
Of watching you; and swing me suddenly
Into the shade and loneliness and mire
Of the last land! There, waiting patiently,

One day, I think, I'll feel a cool wind blowing,
See a slow light across the Stygian tide,
And hear the Dead about me stir, unknowing,
And tremble. And I shall know that you have died,

And watch you, a broad-browed and smiling dream,
Pass, light as ever, through the lightless host,
Quietly ponder, start, and sway, and gleam --
Most individual and bewildering ghost! --

And turn, and toss your brown delightful head
Amusedly, among the ancient Dead. 



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 Vision of the Archangels


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