Rupert Chawner Brooke

Sonnet

Suggested by some of the Proceedings of the 
Society for Psychical Research

 Not with vain tears, when we're beyond the sun,
   We'll beat on the substantial doors, nor tread
   Those dusty high-roads of the aimless dead
 Plaintive for Earth; but rather turn and run
 Down some close-covered by-way of the air,
   Some low sweet alley between wind and wind,
   Stoop under faint gleams, thread the shadows, find
 Some whispering ghost-forgotten nook, and there

 Spend in pure converse our eternal day;
   Think each in each, immediately wise;
 Learn all we lacked before; hear, know, and say
   What this tumultuous body now denies;
 And feel, who have laid our groping hands away;
   And see, no longer blinded by our eyes.