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If I should die, think only this of me: that there's some corner of a foreign field that is for ever England.

Rupert Brooke

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Rupert Brooke
Age: 28 †
Born: 1887
Born: January 1
Died: 1915
Died: January 1
Poet
Rugby
Warwickshire
Rupert Chawner Brooke
Rupert Chaucer Brooke
Thinking
Foreign
Field
Army
England
Fields
Navy
Dies
Corner
Ever
Classic
Think
Corners

More quotes by Rupert Brooke

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Mud unto mud!--Death eddies near-- Not here the appointed End, not here! But somewhere, beyond Space and Time, Is wetter water, slimier slime!
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I have need to busy my heart with quietude.
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It's all a terrible tragedy. And yet, in it's details, it's great fun. And - apart from the tragedy - I've never felt happier or better in my life than in those days in Belgium.
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Hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
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Cities, like cats, will reveal themselves at night.
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These laid the world away poured out the red Sweet wine of youth gave up the years to be Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene, That men call age and those who would have been, Their sons, they gave, their immortality.
Rupert Brooke
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.. . . would I were In Grantchester, in Grantchester!
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Youth is stranger than fiction.
Rupert Brooke
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And in that Heaven of all their wish, there shall be no more land, say fish
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A book may be compared to your neighbor: if it be good, it cannot last too long if bad, you cannot get rid of it too early.
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War knows no power. Safe shall be my going, Secretly armed against all death's endeavour Safe though all safety's lost safe where men fall And if these poor limbs die, safest of all.
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Incredibly, inordinately, devastatingly, immortally, calamitously, hearteningly, adorably beautiful.
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I have been so great a lover: filled my days So proudly with the splendour of Love's praise, The pain, the calm, and the astonishment, Desire illimitable, and silent content, And all dear names men use, to cheat despair, For the perplexed and viewless streams that bear Our hearts at random down the dark of life.
Rupert Brooke
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Oh! death will find me, long before I tire Of watching for you and swing me suddenly Into the shade and loneliness and mire Of the last land!
Rupert Brooke
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The worst of slaves is he whom passion rules.
Rupert Brooke
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But only agony, and that has ending And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.
Rupert Brooke
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Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear, Each secret fishy hope or fear. Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond But is there anything Beyond? This life cannot be All, they swear, For how unpleasant, if it were! One may not doubt that, somehow, Good Shall come of Water and of Mud And, sure, the reverent eye must see A Purpose in Liquidity.
Rupert Brooke
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There's little comfort in the wise
Rupert Brooke
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All the little emptiness of love!
Rupert Brooke
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Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond But is there anything Beyond?
Rupert Brooke