Rupert Brooke

(1887-1915 / Warwickshire / England)

Rupert Brooke Poems

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


Dear! of all happy in the hour, most blest
He who has found our hid security,
Assured in the dark tides of the world that rest,
And heard our word, 'Who is so safe as we?'
We have found safety with all things undying,
The winds, and morning, tears of men and mirth,
The deep night, and birds singing, and clouds flying,
And sleep, and freedom, and the autumnal earth.
We have built a house that is not for Time's throwing.

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