The Soldier
Brooke, Rupert (1887-1915)

  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.


The New Oxford Book of English Verse (Helen Gardner)