TRULY your gift was the gift of a friend; And in the songs of Rupert Brooke I find Thoughts that are yours,—as baffling as the wind, They float like tenuous dreams, and have no end. Soft are the thoughts; and yet their edges rend Sham and deception from the prisoned mind: They free life from those knotted cords that bind And cramp and choke, and yet do not defend, The almost helpless thing we call a soul. Such is the spirit of these poems you gave, And, just as echoes rise when breakers roll Upon a rocky shore, so from the grave Of one young soldier, far across the sea, Echoes of you arise and call to me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WILLOW POEM by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS LIGHT [AND LOVE] by FRANCIS WILLIAM BOURDILLON DON JUAN: CANTO 1 by GEORGE GORDON BYRON HIS CAVALIER by ROBERT HERRICK TO A CHILD DURING SICKNESS by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT FIDELIA ARGUING WITH HER SELF ON THE DIFFICULTY FINDING TRUE RELIGION by JANE BARKER |