| Rupert Brooke (1887–1915). Collected Poems. 1916. |
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| VI. Other Poems |
| 3. Unfortunate |
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| 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, | 5 |
| 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!”… | |
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| She will not care. She’ll smile to see me come, | |
| So that I think all Heaven in flower to fold me. | 10 |
| 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. | |
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