Rupert Chawner Brooke (1887 – 1915)
THE DEADBLOW out, you bugles, over the rich Dead!
There’s none of these so lonely and poor of old,
But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold.
These laid the world away; poured out the red
Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be 5
Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene,
That men call age; and those who would have been,
Their sons, they gave, their immortality.
Blow, bugles, blow! They brought us, for our dearth,
Holiness, lacked so long, and Love, and Pain. 10
Honour has come back, as a king, to earth,
And paid his subjects with a royal wage;
And Nobleness walks in our ways again;
And we have come into our heritage.
 UK Buyers | Purchase the BookRupert Brooke: Life, Death and Myth (Hardcover)
by Nigel Jones (Author) Since his death in the First World War, Brooke has been identified with a romantic myth of a lost world where church clocks stood still and there was eternal honey for tea. But, as this book shows, the truth about Brooke was both more shocking and a lot more interesting. Drawing on a mass of documentation, much of it unpublished, this new biography brings out the full story behind one of the century's most enduring literary legends... |  US Buyers | | |
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