{"id":943,"date":"2011-04-13T02:09:50","date_gmt":"2011-04-13T02:09:50","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/?p=943"},"modified":"2014-06-24T07:19:27","modified_gmt":"2014-06-24T07:19:27","slug":"kindliness-by-rupert-brooke","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/kindliness-by-rupert-brooke\/","title":{"rendered":"Kindliness by Rupert Brooke"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Kindliness<\/h1>\n

by Rupert Brooke<\/p>\n

When love has changed to kindliness
\nOh, love, our hungry lips, that press
\nSo tight that Time’s an old god’s dream
\nNodding in heaven, and whisper stuff
\nSeven million years were not enough
\nTo think on after, make it seem
\nLess than the breath of children playing,
\nA blasphemy scarce worth the saying,
\nA sorry jest, “When love has grown
\nTo kindliness \u00a0to kindliness!” . . .
\nAnd yet \u00a0the best that either’s known
\nWill change, and wither, and be less,
\nAt last, than comfort, or its own
\nRemembrance. And when some caress
\nTendered in habit (once a flame
\nAll heaven sang out to) wakes the shame
\nUnworded, in the steady eyes
\nWe’ll have, \u00a0THAT day, what shall we do?
\nBeing so noble, kill the two
\nWho’ve reached their second-best? \u00a0Being wise,
\nBreak cleanly off, and get away.
\nFollow down other windier skies
\nNew lures, alone? Or shall we stay,
\nSince this is all we’ve known, content
\nIn the lean twilight of such day,
\nAnd not remember, not lament?
\nThat time when all is over, and
\nHand never flinches, brushing hand;
\nAnd blood lies quiet, for all you’re near;
\nAnd it’s but spoken words we hear,
\nWhere trumpets sang; when the mere skies
\nAre stranger and nobler than your eyes;
\nAnd flesh is flesh, was flame before;
\nAnd infinite hungers leap no more
\nIn the chance swaying of your dress;
\nAnd love has changed to kindliness.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Kindliness by Rupert Brooke When love has changed to kindliness Oh, love, our hungry lips, that press So tight that Time’s an old god’s dream Nodding in heaven, and whisper stuff Seven million years were not enough To think on after, make it seem Less than the breath of children playing, A blasphemy scarce worth…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[42],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-943","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-brooke"],"aioseo_notices":[],"aioseo_head":"\n\t\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t