Poetry  |  Rupert Brooke  |  Other Poems  |  Chapter 9

Other Poems — Chapter 9


The way that lovers use is this;
   They bow, catch hands, with never a word,
And their lips meet, and they do kiss,
   -- So I have heard.

They queerly find some healing so,
   And strange attainment in the touch;
There is a secret lovers know,
   -- I have read as much.

And theirs no longer joy nor smart,
   Changing or ending, night or day;
But mouth to mouth, and heart on heart,
   -- So lovers say.