38 RUPERT BROOKE
��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.
— Rupert Brooke.
(A sublieutenant in the volunteer Naval Reserve, Rupert Brooke died from sunstroke on his way to the Dardanelles on April 23, 1915, and was buried in the Greek island of Skyros.)
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