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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEDICATION TO THE LATER SONNETS TO URANIA by GEORGE SANTAYANA IN A GONDOLA by ROBERT BROWNING FAREWELL TO NANCY by ROBERT BURNS EPIGRAM: A LAME BEGGAR by JOHN DONNE WRITTEN IN THE BEGINNING OF MEZERAY'S HISTORY OF FRANCE by MATTHEW PRIOR THE SHEPHERD O' THE FARM by WILLIAM BARNES THE COMPLAINT OF POETIE, FOR THE DEATH OF LIBERALITE by RICHARD BARNFIELD |