Explore "In Memory of Rupert Brooke" by Joyce Kilmer on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
In alien earth, across a troubled sea, / His body lies that was so fair and young. / His mouth is stopped, with half his songs unsung; / His arm is still, that struck to make men free. / But let no cloud of lamentation be / Where, on a warrior's grave, a lyre is hung. / We keep the echoes of his golden tongue, / We keep the vision of his chivalry.
So Israel's joy, the loveliest of kings, / Smote now his harp, and now the hostile horde. / To-day the starry roof of Heaven rings / With psalms a soldier made to praise his Lord; / And David rests beneath Eternal wings, / Song on his lips, and in his hand a sword.