Collected Poems

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. There can hardly be better words to sum up the idealism Brooke felt when he went to fight in the First World War. When 'The Soldier' is read alongside his other poems one realizes what a huge loss his early death in war represents. Check out our other books at www.dogstailbooks.co.uk