Latest quotes | Random quotes | Vote! | Latest comments | Submit quote


The way of love was thus.
He was born one wintry morn
With hands delicious,
And it was well with us.

Love came our quiet way,
Lit pride in us, and died in us,
All in a winter's day.
There is no more to say.

poem by from The Collected Poems of Rupert Brooke, With a Memoir (1913)Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

This text contains a mistake
This text is duplicate
The author of this text is another person
Another problem

More info, if necessary

Your name

Your e-mail


Recent searches | Top searches