Rupert Brooke (1887–1915). Collected Poems. 1916.
V. The South Seas8. A Memory
(From a sonnet-sequence)
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Softly along the dim way to your room,
And found you sleeping in the quiet gloom,
And holiness about you as you slept.
I knelt there; till your waking fingers crept
About my head, and held it. I had rest
Unhoped this side of Heaven, beneath your breast.
I knelt a long time, still; nor even wept.
Of that poor moment’s kindliness, and ease, And sleepy mother-comfort! Child, you know How easily love leaps out to dreams like these, Who has seen them true. And love that’s wakened so Takes all too long to lay asleep again.
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