Rupert Brooke (1887-1915 / Warwickshire / England)
Busy Heart, The
Now that we've done our best and worst, and parted,
I would fill my mind with thoughts that will not rend.
(O heart, I do not dare go empty-hearted)
I'll think of Love in books, Love without end;
Women with child, content; and old men sleeping;
And wet strong ploughlands, scarred for certain grain;
And babes that weep, and so forget their weeping;
And the young heavens, forgetful after rain;
And evening hush, broken by homing wings;
And Song's nobility, and Wisdom holy,
That live, we dead. I would think of a thousand things,
Lovely and durable, and taste them slowly,
One after one, like tasting a sweet food.
I have need to busy my heart with quietude.
Poet Other Poems
- 1914 I: Peace
- 1914 II: Safety
- 1914 III: The Dead
- 1914 IV: The Dead
- 1914 V: The Soldier
- A Channel Passage
- A Letter to a Live Poet
- A Memory (From A Sonnet- Sequence)
- And love has changed to kindliness
- Ante Aram
- Beauty and Beauty
- Beginning, The
- Blue Evening
- Busy Heart, The
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