Rupert Brooke

Sonnet: “Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire”

Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire
   Of watching you; and swing me suddenly
  Into the shade and loneliness and mire
   Of the last land!  There, waiting patiently,
 
  One day, I think, I’ll feel a cool wind blowing,
   See a slow light across the Stygian tide,
  And hear the Dead about me stir, unknowing,
   And tremble.  And I shall know that you have died,
 
  And watch you, a broad-browed and smiling dream,
   Pass, light as ever, through the lightless host,
  Quietly ponder, start, and sway, and gleam —
   Most individual and bewildering ghost! —
 
  And turn, and toss your brown delightful head
  Amusedly, among the ancient Dead.
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