The Soldier
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is forever 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.
Rupert Brooke
One of the few poems that means anything to me. Whenever I'm out on a trip and see a war memorial I make a point of reading all the names and nationalities..