Through other lovers, other lips,” said I,
—“Heart of my heart, our heaven is now, is won!”
“We are Earth’s best, that learnt her lesson here.
Life is our cry. We have kept the faith!” we said;
“We shall go down with unreluctant tread
Rose-crowned into the darkness!” ... Proud we were,
And laughed, that had such brave true things to say.
—And then you suddenly cried, and turned away.
Everything in it—with the exception of “kissed the lovely grass,” which might easily be spared—is fine; “with unreluctant tread Rose-crowned into the darkness!” is vivid with beauty; and when the simple dignity of “such brave true things to say” has swung you to its great height, the drop in that sudden last line comes with the most moving wistfulness. There are several poems, too long to quote here, which show Mr. Brooke’s affinity with the outdoors; but perhaps even five lines from one of them will suggest it:
Then from the sad west turning wearily,