If I should die, think only this of me:<br>That there's some corner of a foreign field<br>That is for ever England. There shall be<br>In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;<br>A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,<br>Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,<br>A body of England's, breathing English air,<br>Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.<br><br>And think, this heart, all evil shed away,<br>A pulse in the eternal mind, no less<br>Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;<br>Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;<br>And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,<br>In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.