Fragment: I strayed about the deck an hour tonight

I strayed about the deck an hour tonight
Under a cloudy moonless sky, and peeped
In at the windows, watched my friends at table,
Or playing cards, or standing in the doorway,
Or coming out into the darkness. Still
No one could see me.

                      I would have thought of them
— Heedless within a week of battle — in pity.
Pride in their strength and in the weight and firmness
And link’d beauty of bodies, and pity that
This gay machine of splendour ‘ld soon be broken,
Thought little of, pashed, scattered…

                         Only, always
I could but see them— against the the lamplight — pass
Like coloured shadows, thinner than filmy glass,
slight bubbles, fainter than the wave’s faint light,
That broke to phosphorous out in the night,
Perishing things and strange ghosts — soon to die
To other ghosts — this one, or that, or I.

April 1915

Rupert Brooke 3 August 1887 – 23 April 1915


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About Uisce úr

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.
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