The story of Rupert Brooke, his love of England, his emotive poetry and his death in the Great War, is well-known. Every red-blooded young girl of my era was in love with the idea of this handsome but doomed poet. Some of us still are.
who is a poet freak like me.
She has just introduced us to a new verse-form. It is called a 'Minute' because it has sixty syllables so it takes sixty seconds to perform*. So I've had a go.
'And is there honey still for tea?'
From Rupert Brook
In any book
Attracts an ex-pat of my type.
The words he wrote
Make me emote!
'The clock still stands at ten to three'!
It's bound to be
Telling that time
In lilting rhyme.
From far away in New South Wales
One never fails
With words like this.
Grantchester with Brooke on the left.
*Now she tells me!! 'A Minute should represent a momentary mood or the events of a minute in time!' Oh well, back to the drawing-board!
More nostalgia here: