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Poem by Rupert Chawner Brooke


 Down the blue night the unending columns press
   In noiseless tumult, break and wave and flow,
   Now tread the far South, or lift rounds of snow
 Up to the white moon's hidden loveliness.
 Some pause in their grave wandering comradeless,
   And turn with profound gesture vague and slow,
   As who would pray good for the world, but know
 Their benediction empty as they bless.

 They say that the Dead die not, but remain
   Near to the rich heirs of their grief and mirth.
     I think they ride the calm mid-heaven, as these,
 In wise majestic melancholy train,
     And watch the moon, and the still-raging seas,
   And men, coming and going on the earth.

THE PACIFIC, October 1913

Rupert Chawner Brooke

Rupert Chawner Brooke's other poems:
  1. Lines Written in the Belief That the Ancient Roman Festival of the Dead Was Called Ambarvalia
  2. The Funeral of Youth: Threnody
  3. On the Death of Smet-Smet, the Hippopotamus-Goddess
  4. Song (All suddenly the wind comes soft)
  5. The Jolly Company

Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Christina Rossetti Clouds ("White sheep, white sheep")
  • Madison Cawein Clouds ("All through the tepid Summer night")
  • Charles Heavysege Clouds ("Hushed in a calm beyond mine utterance")
  • Dora Sigerson Shorter Clouds ("Laughter and song for my cheer")

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