Page:Collected poems of Rupert Brooke.djvu/83

 PARALYSIS

moveless limbs no pity I crave,

That never were swift! Still all I prize,

Laughter and thought and friends, I have;

No fool to heave luxurious sighs

For the woods and hills that I never knew.

The more excellent way's yet mine! And you

Flower-laden come to the clean white cell,

And we talk as ever—am I not the same?

With our hearts we love, immutable,

You without pity, I without shame.

We talk as of old; as of old you go

Out under the sky, and laughing, I know,

Flit through the streets, your heart all me;

Till you gain the world beyond the town.

Then—I fade from your heart, quietly;

And your fleet steps quicken. The strong down

Smiles you welcome there; the woods that love you

Close lovely and conquering arms above you.

O ever-moving, O lithe and free!

Fast in my linen prison I press

On impassable bars, or emptily

Laugh in my great loneliness.

And still in the white neat bed I strive

Most impotently against that gyve;

Being less now than a thought, even,

To you alone with your hills and heaven.