The Chilterns – an poem for the Autumn by Rupert Brooke

The Chilterns, a poem by Rupert Brooke

I shall desire and I shall find
The best of my desires;
The autumn road, the mellow wind
That soothes the darkening shires.
And laughter, and inn-fires.

White mist about the black hedgerows,
The slumbering Midland plain,
The silence where the clover grows,
And the dead leaves in the lane,
Certainly, these remain.

5 thoughts on “The Chilterns – an poem for the Autumn by Rupert Brooke

  1. Hi Martin,

    That poem brings it back!

    After finishing my last long walk, and before moving to Colorado where I still live, my home was the Chilterns for a year and a bit, and I grew extremely close to them. There’s a mellowness to those gentle hills that Colorado can’t quite match, an atmosphere entirely different but just as magical. One day I’ll walk, run and sleep out there again!

    Thank you for reminding me.

    Best wishes,

    Andrew (www.northacrosseurope.wordpress.com)

    1. I went youth hostelling in the Chilterns in my early teens and fell in love with the gentle hills, they are a very special place.

  2. You’ve quoted only two verses of this poem – there is much more!

    4. The Chilterns

    YOUR hands, my dear, adorable,
    Your lips of tenderness
    —Oh, I’ve loved you faithfully and well,
    Three years, or a bit less.
    It wasn’t a success.

    Thank God, that’s done! and I’ll take the road,
    Quit of my youth and you,
    The Roman road to Wendover
    By Tring and Lilley Hoo,
    As a free man may do.

    For youth goes over, the joys that fly,
    The tears that follow fast;
    And the dirtiest things we do must lie
    Forgotten at the last;
    Even Love goes past.

    What’s left behind I shall not find,
    The splendour and the pain;
    The splash of sun, the shouting wind,
    And the brave sting of rain,
    I may not meet again.

    But the years, that take the best away,
    Give something in the end;
    And a better friend than love have they,
    For none to mar or mend,
    That have themselves to friend.

    I shall desire and I shall find
    The best of my desires;
    The autumn road, the mellow wind
    That soothes the darkening shires.
    And laughter, and inn-fires.

    White mist about the black hedgerows,
    The slumbering Midland plain,
    The silence where the clover grows,
    And the dead leaves in the lane,
    Certainly, these remain.

    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 daresay she will do.

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