Stands the Church clock at ten to three? And is there honey still for tea? - Rupert Brooke

Cities, like cats, will reveal themselves at night.

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 conceal’d;
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. Wash’d 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.

"And when we die,
All’s over that is ours; and life burns on
Through other lovers, other lips," said I
—"Heart of my heart, our heaven is now, is won!"
"We are earth’s best, that learnt her lesson here, Life is our cry. We have kept the faith!" we said.