Treasure Island

Rupert Brooke

(1887-1915 / Warwickshire / England)

The Soldier


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, 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.

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

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  • Gillian.E. Shaw (3/4/2005 2:23:00 PM)

    This piece of poetry strengthens and lends itself to patriotism. A longed for reminder of England and all that is good in her. (Report) Reply

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