The Wayfarers

Is it the hour? We leave this resting-place

Made fair by one another for a while.

Now, for a god-speed, one last mad embrace,

The long road then, unlit by your faint smile.

Wayside Farewell

Middletown, Virginia

February 3, 1863

Mort Kunstler

Ah! the long road! and you so far away!

Oh, I'll remember! but...each crawling day

Will pale a little your scarlet lips, each mile

Dull the dear pain of your remembered face.

Do you think there's a far border town, somewhere,

The desert edge, last of the lands we know,

Some gaunt eventual limit of our light,

In which I'll find you waiting, and we'll go

Together, hand in hand again, out there,

Into the waste we know not, into the night?

"The Wayfarers"

Rupert Brooke

(1887-1915)

English poet