Rupert Brooke

Kindliness

When love has changed to kindliness —
  Oh, love, our hungry lips, that press
  So tight that Time’s an old god’s dream
  Nodding in heaven, and whisper stuff
  Seven million years were not enough
  To think on after, make it seem
  Less than the breath of children playing,
  A blasphemy scarce worth the saying,
  A sorry jest, “When love has grown
  To kindliness —to kindliness!” . . .
  And yet —the best that either’s known
  Will change, and wither, and be less,
  At last, than comfort, or its own
  Remembrance.  And when some caress
  Tendered in habit (once a flame
  All heaven sang out to) wakes the shame
  Unworded, in the steady eyes
  We’ll have, —THAT day, what shall we do?
  Being so noble, kill the two
  Who’ve reached their second-best?  Being wise,
  Break cleanly off, and get away.
  Follow down other windier skies
  New lures, alone?  Or shall we stay,
  Since this is all we’ve known, content
  In the lean twilight of such day,
  And not remember, not lament?
  That time when all is over, and
  Hand never flinches, brushing hand;
  And blood lies quiet, for all you’re near;
  And it’s but spoken words we hear,
  Where trumpets sang; when the mere skies
  Are stranger and nobler than your eyes;
  And flesh is flesh, was flame before;
  And infinite hungers leap no more
  In the chance swaying of your dress;
  And love has changed to kindliness.
Other works by Rupert Brooke...



Top