The Collected Poems of Rupert Brooke. Brooke Rupert

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       We have slept too long, who can hardly win

       The white one flame, and the night-long crying;

       The viewless passers; the world's low sighing

       With desire, with yearning,

       To the fire unburning,

       To the heatless fire, to the flameless ecstasy! …

       Helpless I lie.

       And around me the feet of thy watchers tread.

       There is a rumour and a radiance of wings above my head,

       An intolerable radiance of wings. …

       All the earth grows fire,

       White lips of desire

       Brushing cool on the forehead, croon slumbrous things.

       Earth fades; and the air is thrilled with ways,

       Dewy paths full of comfort. And radiant bands,

       The gracious presence of friendly hands,

       Help the blind one, the glad one, who stumbles and strays,

       Stretching wavering hands, up, up, through the praise

       Of a myriad silver trumpets, through cries,

       To all glory, to all gladness, to the infinite height,

       To the gracious, the unmoving, the mother eyes,

       And the laughter, and the lips, of light.

In Examination

       Table of Contents

      Lo! from quiet skies

       In through the window my Lord the Sun!

       And my eyes

       Were dazzled and drunk with the misty gold,

       The golden glory that drowned and crowned me

       Eddied and swayed through the room …

       Around me,

       To left and to right,

       Hunched figures and old,

       Dull blear-eyed scribbling fools, grew fair,

       Ringed round and haloed with holy light.

       Flame lit on their hair,

       And their burning eyes grew young and wise,

       Each as a God, or King of kings,

       White-robed and bright

       (Still scribbling all);

       And a full tumultuous murmur of wings

       Grew through the hall;

       And I knew the white undying Fire,

       And, through open portals,

       Gyre on gyre,

       Archangels and angels, adoring, bowing,

       And a Face unshaded …

       Till the light faded;

       And they were but fools again, fools unknowing,

       Still scribbling, blear-eyed and stolid immortals.