For Cambridge people rarely smile, Being urban, squat, and packed with guile.

-Rupert Brooke
Rupert Brooke

I have a thousand images of you in an hour; all different and all coming back to the same. I think of you once against a sky line: and on the hill that Sunday morning. The light and the shadow and quietness and the rain and the wood. And you. Your arms and lips and hair and shoulders and voice - you.

Rupert Brooke
And I shall find some girl perhaps, and a better one than you, With eyes as wise, but kindlier, and lips as soft, but true, and I dare say she will do.
Rupert Brooke

The cool kindliness of sheets, that soon smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss of blankets.

Rupert Brooke
I have been so great a lover: filled my days So proudly with the splendour of Love's praise, The pain, the calm, and the astonishment, Desire illimitable, and silent content, And all dear names men use, to cheat despair, For the perplexed and viewless streams that bear Our hearts at random down the dark of life.
Rupert Brooke

Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.

Rupert Brooke
The worst of slaves is he whom passion rules.
Rupert Brooke

A kiss makes the heart young again and wipes out the years. Rupert Brook

Rupert Brooke
And think, this heart, all evil shed away, / A pulse in the eternal mind, no less / Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given.
Rupert Brooke

In your arms was still delight,Quiet as a street at night;And thoughts of you, I do remember,Were green leaves in a darkened chamber,Were dark clouds in a moonless sky.

Rupert Brooke
Store up reservoirs of calm and content and draw on them at later moments when the source isn't there, but the need is very great.