Page:A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919.djvu/383

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383
THE FALLEN

RUPERT BROOKE
(In Memoriam)

I NEVER knew you save as all men know
Twitter of mating birds, flutter of wings
In April coverts, and the streams that flow—
One of the happy voices of our Springs:


A voice for ever stilled, a memory,
Since you went eastward with the fighting ships,
A hero of the great new Odyssey,
And God has laid His finger on your lips.


TO RUPERT BROOKE

THOUGH we, a happy few,
Indubitably knew
That from the purple came
This poet of pure flame,


The world first saw his light
Flash on an evil night,
And heard his song from far
Above the drone of war.


Out of the primal dark
He leapt, like lyric lark,
Singing his aubade strain;
Then fell to earth again.


We garner all he gave,
And on his hero grave,
For love and honour strew,
Rosemary, myrtle, rue.


Son of the Morning, we
Had kept you thankfully;
But yours the asphodel:
Hail, singer, and farewell!

[From Plain Song, 1914–1916. Reprinted by permission of William Heinemann, London.]


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