| Rupert Brooke (18871915). Collected Poems. 1916. |
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| VI. Other Poems |
| 7. Song |
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| ALL suddenly the wind comes soft, | |
| And Spring is here again; | |
| And the hawthorn quickens with buds of green, | |
| And my heart with buds of pain. | |
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| My heart all Winter lay so numb, | 5 |
| The earth so dead and frore, | |
| That I never thought the Spring would come, | |
| Or my heart wake any more. | |
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| But Winters broken and earth has woken, | |
| And the small birds cry again; | 10 |
| And the hawthorn hedge puts forth its buds, | |
| And my heart puts forth its pain. | |
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