Page:Collected poems of Rupert Brooke.djvu/90

 My agony made the willows quiver;

I heard the knocking of my heart

Die loudly down the windless river,

I heard the pale skies fall apart,

And the shrill stars' unmeaning laughter,

And my voice with the vocal trees

Weeping. And Hatred followed after,

Shrilling madly down the breeze.

In peace from the wild heart of clamour,

A flower in moonlight, she was there,

Was rippling down white ways of glamour

Quietly laid on wave and air.

Her passing left no leaf a-quiver.

Pale flowers wreathed her white, white brows.

Her feet were silence on the river;

And "Hush!" she said, between the boughs.