Rupert Brooke (1887–1915). Collected Poems. 1916.
I. 1905190815. The Call
O
The slow dreams of Eternity,
There was a thunder on the deep:
I came, because you called to me.
I dared the old abysmal curse, And flashed through ranks of frightened stars Suddenly on the universe! Hell became Heaven as I passed.— What shall I give you as a token, A sign that we have met, at last? Shatter the heavens with a song; Immortal in my love for you, Because I love you, very strong. Your laugh shall fill the world with flame, I’ll write upon the shrinking skies The scarlet splendour of your name, Till Heaven cracks, and Hell thereunder Dies in her ultimate mad fire, And darkness falls, with scornful thunder, On dreams of men and men’s desire. Death, walking very silently, Shall fear the glory of our faces Through all the dark infinity. The eternal end shall find us one, Alone above the Night, above The dust of the dead gods, alone.