Friday, 11 November 2011

11.11.11.11


The Soldier (War Sonnets No. 5)



If I should die, think only this of me:

That there's some corner of a foreign field

That is for ever England. There shall be

In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;

A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,

Gave, once her flowers to love, her ways to roam,

A body of England's, breathing English air,

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 happy as her day;

And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,

In hearts a peace, under an English heaven.


Rupert Brooke (1887-1915)

3 comments:

  1. I love that poem as I do a lot of the war poets work. Its the least one could do for today.

    ReplyDelete

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