| Rupert Brooke (1887–1915). Collected Poems. 1916. |
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| III. Experiments |
| 3. Desertion |
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| SO light we were, so right we were, so fair faith shone, | |
| And the way was laid so certainly, that, when I’d gone, | |
| What dumb thing looked up at you? Was it something heard, | |
| Or a sudden cry, that meekly and without a word | |
| You broke the faith, and strangely, weakly, slipped apart. | 5 |
| You gave in—you, the proud of heart, unbowed of heart! | |
| Was this, friend, the end of all that we could do? | |
| And have you found the best for you, the rest for you? | |
| Did you learn so suddenly (and I not by!) | |
| Some whispered story, that stole the glory from the sky, | 10 |
| And ended all the splendid dream, and made you go | |
| So dully from the fight we know, the light we know? | |
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| O faithless! the faith remains, and I must pass | |
| Gay down the way, and on alone. Under the grass | |
| You wait; the breeze moves in the trees, and stirs, and calls, | 15 |
| And covers you with white petals, with light petals. | |
| There it shall crumble, frail and fair, under the sun, | |
| O little heart, your brittle heart; till day be done, | |
| And the shadows gather, falling light, and, white with dew, | |
| Whisper, and weep; and creep to you. Good sleep to you! | 20 |
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