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...ENGLAND AND AMERICA: 1. ON A RHINE STEAMER by JAMES KENNETH STEPHEN THE WATERFALL by HENRY VAUGHAN SAY NO MORE OF ME by ANNA EMILIA BAGSTAD A WINTER DAY by ALBERT LINDLEY BEANE ASPIRATIONS: 1 by MATHILDE BLIND PARLEYINGS WITH CERTAIN PEOPLE OF IMPORTANCE: FRANCIS FURINI by ROBERT BROWNING |