31 January 2010

The Soldier, poppies and forget me not

I love books and it seems perfect to read a while after a long day in order to unwind. Our bedroom is perfect for such and we make the most of it.
Sitting there, propped up against lots of pillows, our Corgi on his bed (tucked under my vanity table) and with a soft light it enable us to really enjoy reading or just talk about what the other has just read.
The only rule is if the other one is going to read the same book, we do not spoil it for the other! No matter how often we get excited in our tell telling! Hints yes, nothing else is allowed.

Serious discussions have actually started this way, questions arise and yes we even promise ourselves we will do a search engine the following day if we are unsure of something!
We each have areas of knowledge: I like History and Geography and my husband is much more knowledgeable in Religion and Sciences.

We both like poems however and have our favourites. Coming from a military family I found WWI poems especially related to the Flanders and its poppies meaningful. My Grandfather served in the trenches for 4 years. On his grave are planted Forget me Not and they remain along with poppies my favourite flowers.


This poem by Rupert Brooke however speaks of another part of Europe close to my heart:

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, 1914



I always feel a connection somehow, it just speak to me!
As for my husband favourite poem, well he has not made up his mind as to that as yet!

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