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1887–1915

* Song *

Rupert Brooke

“Oh! Love,” they said, “is King of Kings, And Triumph is his crown. Earth fades in flame before his wings, And Sun and Moon bow down.” —

But that, I knew, would never do; And Heaven is all too high. So whenever I meet a Queen, I said, I will not catch her eye.

“Oh! Love,” they said, and “Love,” they said, “The gift of Love is this; A crown of thorns about thy head, And vinegar to thy kiss!” —

But Tragedy is not for me; And I'm content to be gay. So whenever I spied a Tragic Lady, I went another way.

And so I never feared to see You wander down the street, Or come across the fields to me On ordinary feet.

For what they'd never told me of, And what I never knew, It was that all the time, my love, Love would be merely you.

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* Song * · Rupert Brooke · Poetry Cove