Chapter 11
Doubts by Rupert Brooke Read for LibriVox by Peter Yersley When she sleeps, her soul, I know, Goes a wanderer on the air, Wings where I may never go,
Leaves her lying, still and fair, Waiting, empty, laid aside, Like a dress upon a chair. This I know, and yet I know doubts That will not be denied.
For if the soul be not in place, What has laid trouble in her face? And sits there nothing, Where and why's behind the curtains of her eyes, What is it in the self's eclipse,
Shadows soft and passingly About the corners of her lips, The smile that is essential she? And if the spirit be not there, Why is fragrance in the hair?
