Sunday, March 23, 2014
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 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 was an athletic and gifted young man, admired as much for his intellect as for his good looks. When war broke out in 1914, he had already been well received in the literary world with the publication of Poems in 1911. Deeply devoted to his country, Brooke joined the Royal Navy. On his way to the tragic Dardanelle campaign, he contracted blood poisoning and died. Brooke is remembered as a symbol of the tremendous loss of youth and talent that England suffered in World War I.
“The thoughts to which (Brooke) gave expression . . . will be shared by many thousands of young men . . . in this, the hardest, the cruelest, and the least rewarded of all the wars that men have fought.” – Winston Churchill
Posted by JING at 11:12 PM