Friday, 11 November 2011

The Eleventh Hour

I first learned this poem at high school and dizzy headed teenager as I was, it struck a chord.  These days I'm mum to two adult children, an onlooker watching fall the tears of soldiers' mothers on my tv, while they weep for lost sons and daughters, sacrificed fighting overseas ... in the here and now.

It is Armistice Day today and at the eleventh hour, of respect, we will fall silent, 

... lest we forget.

The Soldier

Written by Rupert Brooke in 1914

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.

1 comment:

  1. And in Australia Paula it's Rememberance Day - lest we forget xxx


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