These hearts were woven of human joys and cares, <br /> Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth. <br />The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs, <br /> And sunset, and the colours of the earth. <br />These had seen movement, and heard music; known <br /> Slumber and waking; loved; gone proudly friended; <br />Felt the quick stir of wonder; sat alone; <br /> Touched flowers and furs and cheeks. All this is ended. <br /> <br />There are waters blown by changing winds to laughter <br />And lit by the rich skies, all day. And after, <br /> Frost, with a gesture, stays the waves that dance <br />And wandering loveliness. He leaves a white <br /> Unbroken glory, a gathered radiance, <br />A width, a shining peace, under the night.<br /><br />Rupert Brooke<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/iv-the-dead/
