Page:Collected poems of Rupert Brooke.djvu/140

 SONNET (Suggested by some of the Proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research)

Not with vain tears, when we're beyond the sun,

We'll beat on the substantial doors, nor tread

Those dusty high-roads of the aimless dead

Plaintive for Earth; but rather turn and run

Down some close-covered by-way of the air,

Some low sweet alley between wind and wind,

Stoop under faint gleams, thread the shadows, find

Some whispering ghost-forgotten nook, and there

Spend in pure converse our eternal day;

Think each in each, immediately wise;

Learn all we lacked before; hear, know, and say

What this tumultuous body now denies;

And feel, who have laid our groping hands away;

And see, no longer blinded by our eyes.