Rupert Brooke Quotes

• Unfading moths, immortal flies, And the worm that never dies. And in that heaven of all their wish, There shall be no more land, say fish.

  Rupert Brooke

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• But somewhere, beyond Space and Time Is wetter water, slimier slime!

  Rupert Brooke

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• Fish say, they have their stream and pond; But is there anything beyond?

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• Fish (fly-replete, in depth of June, Dawdling away their wat’ry noon).

  Rupert Brooke

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• Stands the Church clock at ten to three? And is there honey still for tea?

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• They love the Good; they worship Truth; They laugh uproariously in youth; (And when they get to feeling old, They up and shoot themselves, I’m told).

  Rupert Brooke

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• For Cambridge people rarely smile, Being urban, squat, and packed with guile.

  Rupert Brooke

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• God! I will pack, and take a train, And get me to England once again! For England’s the one land, I know, Where men with Splendid Hearts may go.

  Rupert Brooke

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• And spectral dance, before the dawn, A hundred Vicars down the lawn; Curates, long dust, will come and go On lissom, clerical, printless toe; And oft between the boughs is seen The sly shade of a Rural Dean.

  Rupert Brooke

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• Here tulips bloom as they are told; Unkempt about those hedges blows An English unofficial rose.

  Rupert Brooke

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• Naught broken save this body, lost but breath; Nothing to shake the laughing heart’s long peace there But only agony, and that has ending; And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.

  Rupert Brooke

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• Blow 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.

  Rupert Brooke

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• In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

  Rupert Brooke

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• If I should die, think only this of me: That there’s some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich dust a richer dust concealed; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, A body of England’s, breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

  Rupert Brooke

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• The benison of hot water; furs to touch; The good smell of old clothes.

  Rupert Brooke

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• Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that soon Smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss Of blankets.

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• But there’s wisdom in women, of more than they have known, And thoughts go blowing through them, are wiser than their own.

  Rupert Brooke

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• Breathless, we flung us on the windy hill. Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.

  Rupert Brooke

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• The cool kindliness of sheets, that soon smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss of blankets.

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• Cities, like cats, will reveal themselves at night.

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Rupert Brooke (23)

Birth:	3rd August, 1887
Death:	23rd April, 1915
Nationality:	British
Profession:	Poet

About

Rupert Chawner Brooke was an English poet known for his idealistic war sonnets written during the First World War, especially "The Soldier". He was also known for his boyish good looks, which were said to have prompted the Irish poet W. B. Yeats to describe him as "the handsomest young man in England".

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Births

• 1976 - Sam Page
• 1943 - Sam Shepard
• 1934 - Victor Argo
• 1779 - Washington Allston
• 1855 - Eugene V. Debs

Deaths

• 1963 - Luis Cernuda
• 1991 - Robert Maxwell
• 1985 - Spencer W. Kimball
• 1944 - Alexis Carrel
• 2000 - Roger Peyrefitte