Chapter 14
A Memory from a Sonnet Sequence by Rupert Brooke Read for LibriVox by Peter Yearsley Some while before the dawn I rose, And stepped softly along the dim way To your room, and found you sleeping in the quiet gloom, And holiness about you as you slept.
I knelt there till your waking fingers Crept about my head and held it. I had rest, unhoped, this side of heaven, Beneath your breast. I knelt a long time still, nor even wept. It was great wrong you did me, And for gain of that poor moment's kindliness And ease and sleepy mother-comfort, Child, you know how easily love leaps out
To dreams like these, who has seen them true. And love that's wakened so Takes all too long to lay asleep again. Waikiki October 1913 End of poem This recording is in the public domain.
