By Rupert Brooke
Love is a breach in the walls, a broken gate,
Where that comes in that shall not go again;
Love sells the proud heart’s citadel to Fate.
They have known shame, who love unloved. Even then,
When two mouths, thirsty each for each, find slaking,
And agony’s forgot, and hushed the crying
Of credulous hearts, in heaven—such are but taking
Their own poor dreams within their arms, and lying
Each in his lonely night, each with a ghost.
Some share that night. But they know love grows colder,
Grows false and dull, that was sweet lies at most.
Astonishment is no more in hand or shoulder,
But darkens, and dies out from kiss to kiss.
All this is love; and all love is but this.
In the poem entitled Love, the speaker views love as a dangerous force, destructive enough to require a wall to block it. The diction the author uses implies love is a security threat. Using the word breach gives the impression of an uncontrolled threat to ones being. The speaker points out the vulnerability one feels when allowing themselves to love, They have known shame, who love unloved. He expresses the feeling of loving someone who doesn’t love back, the pain and shame that is felt.