Rupert Brooke

Aug 3, 1887 - Apr 23, 1915


Song (All suddenly the wind comes soft...)

by Rupert Brooke

All suddenly the wind comes soft,
And Spring is here again;
And the hawthorn quickens with buds of green,
And my heart with buds of pain.

My heart all Winter lay so numb,
The earth so dead and frore,
That I never thought the Spring would come,
Or my heart wake any more.

But Winter's broken and earth has woken,
And the small birds cry again;
And the hawthorn hedge puts forth its buds
And my heart puts forth its pain.



The Collected Poems of Rupert Brooke
Copyright 1919
London: Sidgwick & Jackson, Ltd.
Link To This Page