Poem by Rupert Chawner Brooke

Song (The way of love was thus)

The way of love was thus.
He was born one winter morn
With hands delicious,
And it was well with us.

Love came our quiet way,
Lit pride in us, and died in us,
All in a winter's day.
There is no more to say.

1. Song (All suddenly the wind comes soft)
2. The Funeral of Youth: Threnody
3. I Said I Splendidly Loved You; It's Not True
4. On the Death of Smet-Smet, the Hippopotamus-Goddess
5. The Jolly Company

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