Page:Collected poems of Rupert Brooke.djvu/89

 BLUE EVENING

restless blood now lies a-quiver,

Knowing that always, exquisitely,

This April twilight on the river

Stirs anguish in the heart of me.

For the fast world in that rare glimmer

Puts on the witchery of a dream,

The straight grey buildings, richly dimmer,

The fiery windows, and the stream

With willows leaning quietly over,

The still ecstatic fading skies. ..

And all these, like a waiting lover,

Murmur and gleam, lift lustrous eyes,

Drift close to me, and sideways bending

Whisper delicious words.

But I

Stretch terrible hands, uncomprehending,

Shaken with love; and laugh; and cry.