Rupert Brooke

The poet Page and I are researching is Rupert Brooke (1987-1915). Rupert Brooke is an English Sonnet writer who was known for his work of the first world war - which he has not experienced first-hand. Born on 3rd of August 1987, he lived on 5 Hillmorton rd in Rugby, Warwickshire (United Kingdom). He found his education in two independant schools called Hillbrow School and Rugby School. Brooke was known to be the 'handsomest young man in England'. He was a bisexual as he was known to fall in love with both sexes, he also fathered a child with a Tahitian women called Taatamata. Unfortunately in 1915, Rupert Brooke died of Sepis given to him by an infected mosquito bite while he was on a boat near the Greek islands of skyros - where he now rests peacefully.

Rupert Brooke's main poems:

• V: 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: V. The Soldier, http://www.oucs.ox.ac.uk/ww1lit/education/tutorials/intro/brooke/vsoldier.html,(16.8.12)

• IV: The Dead

These hearts were woven of human joys and cares,

Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth.
The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs,
And sunset, and the colours of the earth.
These had seen movement, and heard music; known
Slumber and waking; loved; gone proudly friended;
Felt the quick stir of wonder; sat alone;
Touched flowers and furs and cheeks. All this is ended.

There are waters blown by changing winds to laughter
And lit by the rich skies, all day. And after,
Frost, with a gesture, stays the waves that dance
And wandering loveliness. He leaves a white
Unbroken glory, a gathered radiance,
A width, a shining peace, under the night.

Rupert Brooke: IV. The Dead, http://www.oucs.ox.ac.uk/ww1lit/education/tutorials/intro/brooke/ivdead.html, (16.8.12)