1914 III. The Dead

Original Text: 
Rupert Brooke, "1914" Five Sonnets (London: Sidgwick & Jackson, 1915). PR 6003 R4N5 1915b Robarts Library. See also Rupert Brooke, 1914 & Other Poems (London: Sidgwick & Jackson, 1915): 13. PR 6003 R4N5 Robarts Library.
1Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead!
2    There's none of these so lonely and poor of old,
3    But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold.
4These laid the world away; poured out the red
5Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be
6    Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene,
7    That men call age; and those who would have been,
8Their sons, they gave, their immortality.
9Blow, bugles, blow! They brought us, for our dearth,
10    Holiness, lacked so long, and Love, and Pain,
11Honour has come back, as a king, to earth,
12    And paid his subjects with a royal wage;
13And Nobleness walks in our ways again;
14    And we have come into our heritage.
Publication Start Year: 
1915
Publication Notes: 
New Numbers (1915)
RPO poem Editors: 
Ian Lancashire
RPO Edition: 
RPO 1999.
Rhyme: 
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