Rupert Brooke

(1887-1915 / Warwickshire / England)

Rupert Brooke Poems

81. Funeral Of Youth, The: Threnody 12/31/2002
82. Fish, The 12/31/2002
83. Safety 1/1/2004
84. Seaside 12/31/2002
85. Hill, The 12/31/2002
86. Desertion 12/31/2002
87. Choriambics Ii 1/3/2003
88. Jealousy 12/31/2002
89. Chilterns, The 12/31/2002
90. Peace 1/1/2004
91. Love 12/31/2002
92. Dust 12/31/2002
93. The Little Dog's Day 1/13/2003
94. Old Vicarage, The - Grantchester 12/31/2002
95. Dining-Room Tea 1/3/2003
96. Day And Night 5/10/2001
97. Charm, The 12/31/2002
98. Clouds 5/10/2001
99. Great Lover, The 12/31/2002
100. Heaven 12/31/2002
101. The Treasure 1/3/2003
102. Blue Evening 5/10/2001
103. Busy Heart, The 12/31/2002
104. Day That I Have Loved 12/31/2002
105. Ante Aram 5/10/2001
106. Dead Men's Love 12/31/2002
107. 1914 Ii: Safety 1/3/2003
108. Call, The 12/31/2002
109. And Love Has Changed To Kindliness 12/31/2002
110. Beginning, The 12/31/2002
111. 1914 Iii: The Dead 1/3/2003
112. A Letter To A Live Poet 5/10/2001
113. A Channel Passage 5/10/2001
114. A Memory (From A Sonnet- Sequence) 5/10/2001
115. Beauty And Beauty 5/10/2001
116. 1914 I: Peace 1/3/2003
117. 1914 Iv: The Dead 1/3/2003
118. 1914 V: The Soldier 1/3/2003

Comments about Rupert Brooke

  • Ian Fraser (10/19/2009 2:47:00 PM)

    Rupert Brooke's poetry gained an undeserved reputation after WWI for jingoism and a simplistic view of war. However, reading this and other poems it is clear that Brooke never glorified war as Tennyson had for, example, in the celebrated Charge of the Light Brigade, merely the heroism of those who fought in it. This poem is a simple elegy of loss and, notwithstanding the more famous, The Soldier, perhaps the best he wrote.

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  • Paul Henry Dallaire Paul Henry Dallaire (10/19/2009 9:24:00 AM)

    1914 the dead
    A great poem & an astounding memorian for the dead soldiers.

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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