Poem by Rupert Chawner Brooke

The Wayfarers

   Is it the hour?  We leave this resting-place
    Made fair by one another for a while.
   Now, for a god-speed, one last mad embrace;
    The long road then, unlit by your faint smile.
   Ah! the long road! and you so far away!
   Oh, I'll remember! but... each crawling day
   Will pale a little your scarlet lips, each mile
    Dull the dear pain of your remembered face.

   ...Do you think there's a far border town, somewhere,
    The desert's edge, last of the lands we know,
       Some gaunt eventual limit of our light,
    In which I'll find you waiting; and we'll go
   Together, hand in hand again, out there,
       Into the waste we know not, into the night?

1. Finding
2. The Life Beyond
3. The Dance
4. Doubts
5. Sonnet: in Time of Revolt

George Evans The Wayfarers ("Still the white stars burn overhead")

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