Why is Emily Dickinson a better war poet than Rupert Brooke?
I qualify this, as ever, by reminding you that I am neither a poet nor a scholar, so all you’re getting here is how I’ve read that passage through the years. I may well be wrong or incomplete in my conjecture. D.B. was not a gung-ho soldier, he was ravaged by his WWII experiences. Allie was very bright and would have understood that. Rupert Brooke wrote patriotic trumpet salvos to the tragic glory of soldierly death while Dickinson wrote incisive little gems on the nature of life, death and the relationship of the dead to the living. Contrast this, from Dickinson: To know just how He suffered — would be dear — by Emily Dickinson To know just how He suffered — would be dear — To know if any Human eyes were near To whom He could entrust His wavering gaze — Until it settle broad — on Paradise — To know if He was patient — part content — Was Dying as He thought — or different — Was it a pleasant Day to die — And did the Sunshine face his way — What was His furthest mind — Of
