Rupert Brooke, (August 3, 1887–23 April 1915) English poet, died of disease in the First World War during his Naval service in the Aegean Sea. But he wrote poetry and was a reporter before the war.
Seaside
Swiftly out from the friendly lilt of the band,
The crowd's good laughter, the loved eyes of men,
I am drawn nightward; I must turn again
Where, down beyond the low untrodden strand,
There curves and glimmers outward to the unknown
The old unquiet ocean. All the shade
Is rife with magic and movement. I stray alone
Here on the edge of silence, half afraid,
Waiting a sign. In the deep heart of me
The sullen waters swell towards the moon,
And all my tides set seaward.
From inland
Leaps a gay fragment of some mocking tune,
That tinkles and laughs and fades along the sand,
And dies between the seawall and the sea.
" I have need to busy my heart with quietude. "
Rupert Brooke, 1913.