Rupert Brooke

Here you will find the Poem The Life Beyond of poet Rupert Brooke

The Life Beyond

He wakes, who never thought to wake again, 
Who held the end was Death. He opens eyes 
Slowly, to one long livid oozing plain 
Closed down by the strange eyeless heavens. 
He lies;
And waits; and once in timeless sick surmise 
Through the dead air heaves up an unknown hand, 
Like a dry branch. No life is in that land, 
Himself not lives, but is a thing that cries; 
An unmeaning point upon the mud; a speck 
Of moveless horror; an Immortal One 
Cleansed of the world, sentient and dead; a fly 
Fast-stuck in grey sweat on a corpse?s neck. 

I though when love for you died, I should die.
It?s dead. Alone, most strangely, I live on.