Rupert Chawner Brooke (1887 - 1915)

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Rupert Chawner Brooke

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Flowers 1 to 50 (of 70 total)

51 - 70

Forever England.
-Anonymous
Added: Apr. 24, 2013

In Remembrance.
- Dr. Don
Added: Apr. 23, 2013

"You Gave Me The Key Of Your Heart, My Love; / Then Why Did You Make Me Knock?" -- Rupert Brooke, 'The Collected Poems'.
- Eman Bonnici
Added: Mar. 29, 2013

- BigLebo
Added: Feb. 8, 2013

- Kathy Riley Williams
Added: Aug. 21, 2012

- David Wend
Added: Aug. 3, 2012

Thank you for such a brief but wonderfuly legacy.
- Jan
Added: Apr. 13, 2012

- David Wend
Added: Aug. 3, 2011

- Jackie Howard
Added: Aug. 3, 2011

"A kiss makes the heart young again and wipes out the years."-Rupert Brooke
- NA
Added: Jun. 1, 2011

Rest in peace.
- Ken MacLeod
Added: Dec. 23, 2010

- Ruth
Added: Oct. 27, 2010

- lisa greenman
Added: Apr. 21, 2010

"...there is some corner of a foreign field that is forever ENGLAND..." Never Forgotten
- Iris
Added: Oct. 30, 2009

- Pugg
Added: Oct. 25, 2009

Peace
- Dave Reno
Added: Oct. 22, 2009

- J.A. & D.S.
Added: Oct. 13, 2009

- Julia Milton
Added: Sep. 30, 2009

Happy Birthday, Rupert! Rest in peace.
- K. Williams
Added: Aug. 3, 2009

God bless. Rest in peace.
- LilyPondLane
Added: Aug. 3, 2009

- Jackie Howard
Added: Aug. 3, 2009

to the lover...,bless you Rupert
-Anonymous
Added: Jul. 16, 2009

If I should die, think only this of me: / That there's some corner of a foreign field / That is forever England. There shall be / In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; / A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, / Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, / A body of England's, breathing English air, / Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
- Julia Milton
Added: Jan. 30, 2009

- In Your Memory
Added: Aug. 3, 2008

I SAID I splendidly loved you; it's not true. Such long swift tides stir not a land-locked sea. On gods or fools the high risk falls�on you� The clean clear bitter-sweet that's not for me. Love soars from earth to ecstasies unwist. 5 Love is flung Lucifer-like from Heaven to Hell. But�there are wanderers in the middle mist, Who cry for shadows, clutch, and cannot tell Whether they love at all, or, loving, whom: An old song's lady, a fool in fancy dress, 10 Or phantoms, or their own face on the gloom; For love of Love, or from heart's loneliness. Pleasure's not theirs, nor pain. They doubt, and sigh, And do not love at all. Of these am I.
- RedClaire
Added: Jun. 26, 2008

Delving into Rupert's mind by reading his poems and his letters makes the fact that he is dead seem so insane, so absurd, so untrue. Sometimes, I have to take a long hard look at the picture of his grave to believe that he has indeed departed. Yet, it's still hard to believe. I have been studying his outstanding existence and have been reading so much about him for so long that it really feels like he is someone close to me. It is amazing when we stop and think about what art can do. Although this dear poet has been long gone, his memory will go on forever and his legacy made it possible for me to get to know him so many years after his death. Rupert would certainly be happy to know that he has a very especial place within the hearts of people from many generations. He sure is way more than a piece of England in a foreign land. According to what he expressed in one of his many letters, at 26 years of age, Rupert felt that he had done so little. Little did he know about the accomplishment his work would reach. I hope Rupert can somehow see it all from wherever he is now.
- Juliana Osment
Added: May. 24, 2008