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The Soldier
**//Rupert Brooke

If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field That is forever 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, blest by sons 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 at peace, under an English heaven.

[|Rupert Brooke] ||




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