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 friends; and gentleness,
     In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
Credit

This poem is in the public domain.

About this Poem

Rupert Brooke is often considered a "Georgian" poet, referring to the 20th century British movement named in honor of King George V. A soldier during World War I, Brooke died of dysentery and blood poisoning aboard a troop ship. Winston Churchill used the occasion of Brooke's death, as well as his posthumous collection 1914 and Other Poems, to reinforce a recruitment drive.