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letra de the soldier - arthur foote

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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 somеwhere back the thoughts by england givеn;
her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
and laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness
in hearts at peace, under an english heaven

- arthur foote

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