Rupert
Brooke .
DAY
THAT
I
HAVE
LOVED .
TENDERLY , day
that I have
loved , I
close
your
eyes,
And
smooth
your
quiet brow ,
and
fold
your thin ,
dead
hands.
The
grey
veils
of the half -light deepen ; colour
dies .
I bear
you , a light burden ,
to
the
shrouded
sands ,
Where
lies
your waiting boat, by
wreaths
of the
seas
making
Mist -garlanded , with
all
grey
weeds
of
the water
crowned
.
There
you
'll
be
laid
,
past fear
of
sleep
or
hope
of
waking
;
And
over
the unmoving
sea
,
without
a
sound
,
Faint
hands
will
row
you
outward
,
out beyond
our
sight
,
Us with
stretched
arms
and
empty
eyes
on
the far
gleaming
And marble
sand
.
.
.
Beyond
the
shifting
cold twilight
,
Further
than
laughter
goes
,
or
tears
,
further
than
dreaming
,