|ELCore.Net > Poetry > Catholic Poets > Poems of Joyce Kilmer|
|In Memory of Rupert Brooke|
In alien earth, across a troubled sea,|
His body lies that was so fair and young.
His mouth is stopped, with half his songs unsung;
His arm is still, that struck to make men free.
But let no cloud of lamentation be
Where, on a warrior’s grave, a lyre is hung.
We keep the echoes of his golden tongue,
We keep the vision of his chivalry.
So Israel’s joy, the loveliest of kings,|
Smote now his harp, and now the hostile horde.
To-day the starry roof of Heaven rings
With psalms a soldier made to praise his Lord;
And David rests beneath Eternal wings,
Song on his lips, and in his hand a sword.
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Lane Core Jr. (email@example.com)
Created April 1, 2001; not revised.