Rupert Brooke

(1887-1915 / Warwickshire / England)

Rupert Brooke Poems

1. 1914 I: Peace 1/3/2003
2. 1914 Ii: Safety 1/3/2003
3. 1914 Iii: The Dead 1/3/2003
4. 1914 Iv: The Dead 1/3/2003
5. 1914 V: The Soldier 1/3/2003
6. A Channel Passage 5/10/2001
7. A Letter To A Live Poet 5/10/2001
8. A Memory (From A Sonnet- Sequence) 5/10/2001
9. And Love Has Changed To Kindliness 12/31/2002
10. Ante Aram 5/10/2001
11. Beauty And Beauty 5/10/2001
12. Beginning, The 12/31/2002
13. Blue Evening 5/10/2001
14. Busy Heart, The 12/31/2002
15. Call, The 12/31/2002
16. Charm, The 12/31/2002
17. Chilterns, The 12/31/2002
18. Choriambics I 1/3/2003
19. Choriambics Ii 1/3/2003
20. Clouds 5/10/2001
21. Dawn 5/10/2001
22. Day And Night 5/10/2001
23. Day That I Have Loved 12/31/2002
24. Dead Men's Love 12/31/2002
25. Desertion 12/31/2002
26. Dining-Room Tea 1/3/2003
27. Doubts 12/31/2002
28. Dust 12/31/2002
29. Failure 12/31/2002
30. Finding 12/31/2002
31. Fish, The 12/31/2002
32. Flight 12/31/2002
33. Funeral Of Youth, The: Threnody 12/31/2002
34. Goddess In The Wood, The 12/31/2002
35. Great Lover, The 12/31/2002
36. Hauntings 12/31/2002
37. He Wonders Whether To Praise Or To Blame Her 12/31/2002
38. Heaven 12/31/2002
39. Hill, The 12/31/2002
40. Home 12/31/2002
Best Poem of Rupert Brooke

1914 V: 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 ...

Read the full of 1914 V: The Soldier

Beginning, The

Some day I shall rise and leave my friends
And seek you again through the world's far ends,
You whom I found so fair
(Touch of your hands and smell of your hair!),
My only god in the days that were.
My eager feet shall find you again,
Though the sullen years and the mark of pain
Have changed you wholly; for I shall know
(How could I forget having loved you so?),

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