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Poem by Rupert Chawner Brooke

* * *

 The way that lovers use is this;
   They bow, catch hands, with never a word,
 And their lips meet, and they do kiss,
   --So I have heard.

 They queerly find some healing so,
   And strange attainment in the touch;
 There is a secret lovers know,
   --I have read as much.

 And theirs no longer joy nor smart,
   Changing or ending, night or day;
 But mouth to mouth, and heart on heart,
   --So lovers say.

Rupert Chawner Brooke

Rupert Chawner Brooke's other poems:
  1. The Funeral of Youth: Threnody
  2. On the Death of Smet-Smet, the Hippopotamus-Goddess
  3. Sonnet: in Time of Revolt
  4. Sleeping Out: Full Moon
  5. Song (Oh! Love, they said)

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