The Mother of Rupert Brooke Reacted Strongly against Praise of his Physical Beauty
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
“Indeed, it sometimes seems that every person who ever met Brooke, and certainly every person who ever wrote about him, felt compelled to write down their impressions of his appearance.” ~ Keith Hale, Friends and Apostles: the Correspondence of Rupert Brooke and James Strachey, 1905-1914, p. 13
What must it be to be so hot that men,
All other men, are forced to say how stunned
They are by you, your looks. Yes, every pen
Of every man writes stark ink orotund
Encomiums on beauty, holding back
From slavering, barely. Then again it’s true
They focus on your face, your head, that sacque
Of richest hair of every perfect hue
You have to toss away from deep-set eyes
And poems’ forehead. Long the strong arched neck
A famous portrait shows. Men are wise
To hold back comments on it. Such would wreck
Their butchness, though one scoffer said in jest
As “actress” he was prettiest and best.
~ Phillip Whidden
