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Rupert Brooke

2 Jul

Hello Everybody, There was another poet who I have greatly admired over the years, his name was Rupert Brooke. He was born on the 3rd August 1887 educated at Rugby school and Cambridge University and later became a fellow of King’s College Cambridge. Incidentally this was his old college
Rupert was a much travelled man visiting America, Canada, New Zealand and the Pacific Islands, just to name a few. Having, returned to England, from his travels abroad. The First World War in 1914 broke out. Rupert quickly joined up and was commissioned in the Royal Naval Division. This division took part in the unsuccessful Antwerp expedition in 1914. Rupert Brooke wrote many poems during the early years of the war, but for me there is one poem that stands out more than the others. I will write the first lines of his poem “The Soldier,” of which I am sure you will have heard at some time or another.
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

I know it sounds very parochial, because many brave Irish, Welsh, Scottish and Commonwealth servicemen lie buried in foreign fields with no recognition of who they are. The beautiful words Rupert Brooke wrote in my way of thinking, was really meant for everyone.
In February he set sail with his division for Gallipoli in the Dardanelles. On board ship during the voyage he developed poisoning from a Mosquito bite to his lip, which had turned septic. He steadily became very ill and died on a French Hospital ship in the bay of the Greek Island Skyros on the 23rd April 1915 he was aged 28. With very close friends in attendance and with the Fleet sailing early morning the next day. Rupert Brooke was buried in an Olive Grove on the Island of Skyros at 11pm.
In the early part of the 1990’s a Royal Naval party sought out Rupert Brooke’s grave on Skyros and found it very overgrown. The naval party due to their endeavour made the grave immaculate as it is today. A man may die, but his work lives on for all to see

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