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The Soldier

By Rupert Brooke

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IfI should die

.. think only this of me:

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That there's some corner ofa 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,

FRANCE

England

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Gave, once, her

flowers to love,

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A body of England's, breathing

English air,

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Washed by the rivers, blest by suns

ofhome.

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And think, this heart, all evil shed

away

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A pulse in the eternal mind, no

less

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Her sights and sounds; dreams

happy as her day

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And laughter, learnt offriends; and

gentleness

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In hearts at peace, under an

English heaven.

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The Solider by Rupert Brooke

By lily Attwood