Read Poetry, It’s Good for You

There are certain things in life that are just good for you in some abstract, mama-told-me-so sort of way. Eating your veggies, getting eight hours of sleep, minding your manners, drinking orange juice, you get the idea. Poetry is one of these things.

I’ve been reading a lot of it this week, so I thought I’d share one particularly pretty poem I came across. It’s beautifully written by Rupert Brooke regarding World War I, which is why the title is ever so slightly morbid. (If you’d like a further literary analysis, no worries, I got you).

So, take 30 seconds and do something good for you. Read a poem.


The Dead

These hearts were woven of human joys and cares,

Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth.

The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs,

And sunset, and the colours of the earth.

These had seen movement, and heard music; known

Slumber and waking; loved; gone proudly friended;

Felt the quick stir of wonder; sat alone;

Touched flowers and furs and cheeks. All this is ended.

There are waters blown by changing winds to laughter

And lit by the rich skies, all day. And after,

Frost, with a gesture, stays the waves that dance

And wandering loveliness. He leaves a white

Unbroken glory, a gathered radiance,

A width, a shining peace, under the night.