Sunday, 10 November 2013

Remembrance Sunday


I thought about Remembrance Sunday yesterday, it's meaning, when I came across a compilation of First World War poems on kindle, and again this morning when I heard the Church bells ring.

I was moved as I am every year by the beauty of the soldiers' words as they faced death. I'm thankful and feel humbled that even as a writer I can't truly imagine what it must have been like to be in their place. 

War can have a different meaning for each of us and
the reasons why it happens. I am posting Rupert Brookes' poem today in memory of those who lost their lives because of it. The poem is sadly one of many I could have shared here...


If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is forever 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 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.