Rupert Brooke – The Cockney Bard

Rupert Brooke

In some ways the whole point of your poetical existence was missed. How glory came in the lines of just one poem ‘The Soldier’ when in so many others, death and its meaning seem lost and pointless. The flames of passion that left your pen are a reminder to all of the joys a poet can bring. No wasted words or sentiments, no ideal spanning mind, fruitless in its endeavours, but an eternal mind, able to seek and find, whatever it so seeks. I speak like you from the same mind. Your death, a sacrifice laid in a foreign field. Not battle or wound but ill health took a light from you in life. Forever it shines hereafter in death, in people’s hearts and minds.

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