(Soldier poet, died April 1915, aged 27)
He lies silent
No more to know
Cream teas shared on manicured lawns
Flirting young women
Creating rich flow of poetic imagery.
That rich dust which England shaped
Made aware, her peoples pride
Dwells grave deep
Far from beloved country's shores
Under cold marble slab on the Isle of Skyros.
Colin Ian Jeffery
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/death-of-rupert-brooke/
