The Way That Lovers Use

A poem by Rupert Brooke

The way that lovers use is this;
They bow, catch hands, with never a word,
And their lips meet, and they do kiss,
So I have heard.

They queerly find some healing so,
And strange attainment in the touch;
There is a secret lovers know,
I have read as much.

And theirs no longer joy nor smart,
Changing or ending, night or day;
But mouth to mouth, and heart on heart,
So lovers say.

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