By Rupert Brooke
It was not that you said I thought you knew,
Or that you thought I said that you, my dear,
Felt what I felt you felt. If it were clear,
Had God given soul to me, or sense to you,
Or guts, indeed, to either of the two,
Had it been worth a smile, or worth a tear,
Heart of my heart.
1 comment:
It's said a picture paints a thousand words. Not words like this.
My favourite poem because it succinctly describes the destruction of a part of my life.
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