THE SOLDIER
by: Rupert Brooke (1887-1915)
- F 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 conceal'd;
- 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.
- Wash'd by the rivers, blest by 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 at peace, under an English heaven.
"The Soldier" is reprinted
from "1914" Five Sonnets. Rupert Brooke. London:
Sidgwick & Jackson, 1915. |
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POEMS BY RUPERT BROOKE |
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