Rupert Brooke (1887–1915). Collected Poems. 1916.
I. 190519083. Sleeping Out: Full Moon
T
I cower to the earth, I waking, I only.
High and cold thou dreamest, O queen, high-dreaming and lonely.
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!.… 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.… 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.