Poem · War poetryIf I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England.Rupert BrookeThe Soldier · 1914★ 5.1
PoemBreathless, we flung us on the windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.Rupert Brooke1916★ 5.1
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