Rupert Brooke

(1887-1915 / Warwickshire / England)

Rupert Brooke Poems

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