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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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A. Weeks (1894-1917)
A. Weeks, child of Walter V and Sarah Weeks was born in 1894. Lived in Ringwood. Fought in WW1 (dogtag# 136529) as a Gunner in the 38th Siege Bty. Royal Garrison Artillery. Died on May 18 1917 at the age of 23. Buried at II.A.10. Maroc British Cemetery - Nord.
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