Invictus
If

High Wood
Anthem for Doomed Youth
Dulce et Decorum Est
I Stood with the Dead
In Flanders Fields
The Soldier

Seven Ages of Man
Once more unto the breach
St Crispin's Day

John Hewitt
Rewriting the Soundbite
Carrickfergus

about
index
sitemap
search site
quotations
military
RMAS
N. Ireland
sports
combat cat
RAF Lincolnshire
Portugal holidays
jobs
links
contact

not for profit
copyright
Data Protection

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.

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