| Rupert Brooke (1887–1915). Collected Poems. 1916. |
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| III. Experiments |
| 1. Choriambics—I |
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| AH! not now, when desire burns, and the wind calls, and the suns of spring | |
| Light-foot dance in the woods, whisper of life, woo me to wayfaring; | |
| Ah! not now should you come, now when the road beckons, and good friends call, | |
| Where are songs to be sung, fights to be fought, yea! and the best of all, | |
| Love, on myriad lips fairer than yours, kisses you could not give!… | 5 |
| Dearest, why should I mourn, whimper, and whine, | |
| I that have yet to live? | |
| Sorrow will I forget, tears for the best, love on the lips of you, | |
| Now, when dawn in the blood wakes, and the sun laughs up the eastern blue; | |
| I’ll forget and be glad! | 10 |
| Only at length, dear, when the great day ends, | |
| When love dies with the last light, and the last song has been sung, and friends | |
| All are perished, and gloom strides on the heaven: then, as alone I lie, | |
| ’Mid Death’s gathering winds, frightened and dumb, sick for the past, may I | |
| Feel you suddenly there, cool at my brow; then may | 15 |
| I hear the peace | |
| Of your voice at the last, whispering love, calling, ere all can cease | |
| In the silence of death; then may I see dimly, and know, a space, | |
| Bending over me, last light in the dark, once, as of old, your face. | |
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