Chapter 4
1914, for The Dead by Rupert Brooke. Read for LibriVox.org by J. L. Baldwin. These hearts were woven of human joys and cares, washed marvelously with sorrow, swift to mirth. The years had given them kindness, dawn was theirs and sunset and the colours of the earth. These had seen movement and heard music, known slumber and waking,
loved, gone proudly friended, felt the quick stir of wonder, sat alone, touched flowers and furs and cheeks. All this is ended. There are waters blown by changing winds to laughter and lit by the rich skies all day and after frost, with a gesture, stays the waves that dance and wandering loveliness. He leaves a white unbroken glory, a gathered radiance, a width, a shining peace under the night.
End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
