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Patriotism
- Rupert Brooke
The pity of war
- Isaac Rosenberg
- Wilfred Owen
- Siegfried Sassoon
Aftermath
A Soldier's Declaration
Tyne Cot Epitaphs

RUPERT BROOKE (1887 - 1915)
 

A man of great physical beauty by reputation, Rupert Brooke was born in Rugby, Warwickshire where he attended the local school. He then gained entry into King's College, Cambridge (1905-11) where he became a Fellow in 1912. He travelled extensively and wrote many travel letters for the 'Westminster Gazette', London (1912-13). At the start of the First World War in 1914, he was assigned to the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve. He saw action at Antwerp which inspired the writing of five passionately patriotic sonnets, the last of them being The Soldier. He was at the height of his fame when he died during the war aged twenty-seven. He had been on his way to serve in the Dardanelles when he died of blood poisoning at Scyros and was buried there.
(Source: PoemHunter.com)


 
 
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.

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;
A laughter learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

Vertaling: De soldaat  



 



De soldaat

Als ik mocht sterven, denk dan enkel dit van mij:
Dat een hoek van een akker in den vreemde
Voor altijd Engeland zal zijn. Er zal daar
In die rijke grond een rijker stof verborgen gaan;

Stof door Engeland tot leven gewekt, gevormd, bewust gemaakt
Kreeg, eens, haar bloemen te koesteren, wegen te bewandelen
Een Engels lichaam Engelse lucht ademend,
Gewassen door de rivieren, gezegend door zomers van thuis

Bedenk dit hart, verlost van al het kwaad,
Klopt in de eeuwige gedachte, en geeft ergens terug
Niets minder dan de gedachten door Engeland gegeven;

Haar uitzichten, haar geluiden; dromen mooi als haar dagen;
Gelach geleerd van vrienden; en zachtheid
In vredige harten, onder een Engelse hemel