Chapter 18
Sonnet, suggested by some of the proceedings Of the Society for Psychical Research By Rupert Brooke Read for LibriVox by Peter Yersley Not with vain tears, when we're beyond the sun,
We'll beat on the substantial doors, Nor tread those dusty high-roads Of the aimless dead plaintive for earth, But rather turn and run down some Close-covered by-way of the air,
Some low sweet alley between wind and wind, Stoop under faint gleams, Thread the shadows, find some whispering Ghost-forgotten nook, and there Spend in pure converse our eternal day,
Think each in each immediately wise, Learn all we lacked before, Hear, know, and say what this tumultuous Body now denies, and feel Who have laid our groping hands away,
And see no longer blinded by our eyes.
