Page:Collected poems of Rupert Brooke.djvu/91

 THE CHARM

darkness the loud sea makes moan;

And earth is shaken, and all evils creep

About her ways.

Oh, now to know you sleep!

Out of the whirling blinding moil, alone,

Out of the slow grim fight,

One thought to wing—to you, asleep,

In some cool room that's open to the night

Lying half-forward, breathing quietly,

One white hand on the white

Unrumpled sheet, and the ever-moving hair

Quiet and still at length! . ..

Your magic and your beauty and your strength,

Like hills at noon or sunlight on a tree,

Sleeping prevail in earth and air.

In the sweet gloom above the brown and white

Night benedictions hover; and the winds of night

Move gently round the room, and watch you there.

And through the dreadful hours

The trees and waters and the hills have kept

The sacred vigil while you slept,

And lay a way of dew and flowers

Where your feet, your morning feet, shall tread.