| 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. |
Rupert Brooke. 1887–1915
after the outcome,
of which I gave everything
my love was still lost.
she broke my heart,
and after all of that,
which I tried so hard,
I have learned
my biggest regret
is that I didn't go over there,
I'm so sorry.
I wish I had been with you.