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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 friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
Rupert Brooke |
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| Surname |
Firstname |
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| Cherrett |
Archibald William |
|
More Info |
| Coates |
Flora Oliphant |
(1898-1941) |
More Info |
| Coates |
John Spencer |
(1878-1941) |
More Info |
| Cole |
Frederick George Samuel |
(1904-1943) |
More Info |
| Coles |
The Revd Horace John |
(1887-1942) |
More Info |
| Collin |
Andrew |
(1896-1941) |
More Info |
| Cowley |
Cecil Edward |
(1903-1942) |
More Info |
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