| The Soldier If I should die, think only this of me: that there's a corner of some foreign field That is forever England. There shall be in that rich earth a richer dust concealed A dust whom England bore, shaped, and made aware; Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam Washed by the rivers, blessed by the suns of home. And think, this heart, all evil shed away, a pulse in the eternal mind no less Gives somewhere back, the thoughts by England given; Her sights and sounds, dreams as happy as her day. And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness In hearts at peace, under an English heaven Rupert Brooke 1887-1915 'War Poet' |
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