Rupert Brooke

(1887-1915 / Warwickshire / England)


Poem by Rupert Brooke

Creeps in half wanton, half asleep,
One with a fat wide hairless face.
He likes love-music that is cheap;
Likes women in a crowded place;
And wants to hear the noise they're making.

His heavy eyelids droop half-over,
Great pouches swing beneath his eyes.
He listens, thinks himself the lover,
Heaves from his stomach wheezy sighs;
He likes to feel his heart's a-breaking.

The music swells. His gross legs quiver.
His little lips are bright with slime.
The music swells. The women shiver.
And all the while, in perfect time,
His pendulous stomach hangs a-shaking.

Comments about Wagner by Rupert Brooke

  • John Barnett. (7/3/2019 3:22:00 PM)

    Brooke was a masterful observer with a great ability to transfer his observations into words.
    This, like Grantchester, is a classic example.
    I find it a brilliantly repulsive comment on the Germany of Brooke's time there.(Report)Reply

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Read poems about / on: music, women, time, heart, woman

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002

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