The Soldier

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. 

Rupert Brooke

Morning

The mist has left the greening plain, 
The dew-drops shine like fairy rain, 
The coquette rose awakes again 
Her lovely self adorning. 

The Wind is hiding in the trees, 
A sighing, soothing, laughing tease, 
Until the rose says "Kiss me, please," 
'Tis morning, 'tis morning. 

With staff in hand and careless-free, 
The wanderer fares right jauntily, 
For towns and houses are, thinks he, 
For scorning, for scorning. 
My soul is swift upon the wing, 
And in its deeps a song I bring; 
Come, Love, and we together sing, 
"'Tis morning, 'tis morning."

The Swing

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
River and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside--

Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown--
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!

Robert Louis Stevenson

Sweet Echo

Sweet Echo

Come to me, the night was quiet;
We speak in silence of a dream;
Comes with rounded cheeks and eyes bright and smooth
As the sun in the stream;
Come back in tears,
Memories, hope, love of finished years.

Dreams are sweet, very sweet, sweet-bitter,
If you wake, and they should be Paradise
When the soul of love brimfull respect;
When thirst longing eyes
Watch the door slowly
This opening, in the lease, do not allow more.

However, he came to me in my dreams, I could live
My life still very cold, even to death:
Come back to me in my dreams, I can
Pulse pulse, breathing with the breathing:
Speeches low, lean low
How long, my love, how long ago.

In Summer Afternoon

Languid atmosphere, easy lazy
Created with the breath, the movement of grain
It was not conducted until the sea of gold
Break net whispers in the leg.

Books that I thought was ignored in the standby mode
Hidden think as men;
Or less open to the wind is essential,
Reviews Affrightedly own again.

Off through the haze that dances in the glow
Hot shower Sunday forest
Forest Project Profile
Shut down completely in the shade.

The dream of the day, and I lie quietly
The anchor in the storm, all mental;
There is no vision, looking at the sky,
"As people hear the rain."

Katydids, so that the violence last night
The flight reversed in the delicate balance
In accordance with the blade of wheat were quite confident
If Katie or not "raise the roof.

Twister, sometimes a bird
Keep in mind that all of a sudden the music with the sound,
And yet, chiding attracted echoes,
Drowning in silence, all the more.

Weakly, I heard the sad strain
In some pigeons. . . Why, I was still difficult
My heavy eyelids - not new --
"Crazy!" - I can not - "crazy!" - Zasypaya!

The Drift Of The Ark

As you can see on the island through the Billows of green,
Billows foam on the crest of Blue
Tam Ross, the distance is considered
Half dreaming, eyes again:
Now, shadows, has resigned from the drift
Like weeds in periods jerk;
Now that the white gull, which takes you on the road
The sun shining in your fabric.

However, it is reasonable to avoid the risk of the pilot project --
Of the circuit breakers that whiten and roar;
How little you care, or in the shade or not.
They see those who wish to from the shore!
It seems that the lighthouse, suspended at the reef
For a rock under the Lee,
This prevents the top, as the wind wafted leaf,
Across the Gulf of deserted beach.

So, instead of the drift of the ark jam Sunday
When lives and businesses are located,
Dreamers who examined, while against the waves
You can see the sun or shade;
But, even if the growth of dark shadows,
We trim our broad sail as before,
And take the rudder that governs the bark,
Also, we will see how to apply the coast!

A Man's Honesty

It is the integrity of poverty
That hings his head, that 'a' that;
The coward slave - We give you
We are not afraid to be weak, that is!
"And that" A ", which
We blur the "A", which
This classification is not only the stamp Guinea;
The man is to Gowda. "

That although hamely type of fare we eat,
Wear hoddin Gray, "A" is?
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine;
The man is a man who "him.
"And that" A ", which
Their tinsel show, the 'a' that
It is an honest man, tho 'e'er sae poor,
It is the king 'is the men. "

You see there birkie ca'd a gentleman,
WHA pillar, which is the "star" A ", which;
Tho 'hundreds worship his words,
But he coof for it. "
"And that" A ", which
His beams, star, "A", which
Man o 'independent mind
He seems less "is a laugh, that".

A price may MAK BELTED a knight,
The Marquise, Grand Duke, "A", which;
But honestly man he could aboon
Gude faith, he maunna that fa!
"And that" A ", which
His dignities "A", which
The marrow of the feeling that "the pride value,
There is an investment greater than he.

So we pray for it is
(How come ", this)
Meaning and value, o'er the land,
It mada, "A", the.
"And that" A ", which
This man is the man the world o'er,
It brithers for a 'that.

In The Secret Of Your Time

Your soul will find the
'Mid dark thoughts of gray tomb of stone;
No one, the quantity, PRY
In the secret of your time.

Silence, in solitude,
Loneliness, which is not so much
The spirits of the dead, who
In life before thee, are back
In death around you, and its willingness to
Will overshadow you; yet.

The night, though clear, shall frown,
And the stars do not see
From his throne high in the sky
At the light, as hoped, given the fatal
But his red balls without rays,
For your fatigue is clearly
Fuel and fever
Brackets to you forever.

Today, you are not also prohibit the
Now, visions ne'er disappear;
Your mind, it
Not, as the dew drop from the grass.

The wind, the breath of God, is always
And the fog on the hill
Shade, shadow, but intact
Is a symbol and a sign.
As it depends on trees,
A secret of secrets!

What Matters

I can not open my eyes,
But you're ready to capture
My morning and soul of the victim:
So we must needs this game a day.

My God, what a heart?
Silver or gold, precious stones,
Or Star or rainbow, or a part of
All these things or all of them in one?

My God, what a heart?
You also should'st eye, and Woo,
Iron, which makes all your art
As if you Hasten nothing else to do?

For man the Estate
Amounts (and rich) for you:
He did not create Heaven and earth,
Studies but is not him, who she is.

Teach me your love of knowledge;
That this new light, now I see
May the work and workers show
Then, in a Sun-Beam, I'm going down on you.