Soldier, The

<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN> <h2>The Soldier</h2> <p>If I should die, think only this of me:<br/> That there's some corner of a foreign field<br/> That is for ever England. There shall be<br/> In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;<br/> A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,<br/> Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,<br/> A body of England's, breathing English air,<br/> Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.<br/> <br/> And think, this heart, all evil shed away,<br/> A pulse in the eternal mind, no less<br/> Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;<br/> Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;<br/> And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,<br/> In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.<br/></p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />