Waikiki

Portrait of Rupert Brooke
Rupert Brooke 1887–1915

Warm perfumes like a breath from vine and tree Drift down the darkness. Plangent, hidden from eyes Somewhere an `eukaleli' thrills and cries And stabs with pain the night's brown savagery. And dark scents whisper; and dim waves creep to me, Gleam like a woman's hair, stretch out, and rise; And new stars burn into the ancient skies, Over the murmurous soft Hawaian sea.

And I recall, lose, grasp, forget again, And still remember, a tale I have heard, or known, An empty tale, of idleness and pain, Of two that loved -- or did not love -- and one Whose perplexed heart did evil, foolishly, A long while since, and by some other sea.

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