by Rupert Brooke (1887 - 1915)
Unfortunate
Language: English
Heart, you are restless as a paper scrap That's tossed down dusty pavements by the wind; Saying, "She is most wise, patient and kind. Between the small hands folded in her lap Surely a shamed head may bow down at length, And find forgiveness where the shadows stir About her lips, and wisdom in her strength, Peace in her peace. Come to her, come to her!"... She will not care. She'll smile to see me come, So that I think all Heaven in flower to fold me. She'll give me all I ask, kiss me and hold me, And open wide upon that holy air The gates of peace, and take my tiredness home, Kinder than God. But, heart, she will not care.
First published in Poetry Review, November 1912
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
Authorship:
- by Rupert Brooke (1887 - 1915), "Unfortunate" [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Ruth Gipps (1921 - 1999), "Unfortunate" [soprano or tenor and piano], from Four Songs of Youth [text not verified]
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2008-07-12
Line count: 14
Word count: 123