Today is Veteran's Day, for a few more hours at least, and tomorrow a state holiday. But somehow, when I think of this day, even in a time of war, I think of it's origins instead (my grandfather was a soldier during this war, but served in NY-I always think of him on this day). World War I, though long past, is still casting its shadow on the world. So I post today a poem by Rupert Brooke, The Soldier:
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.
One of my favorite mystery writers is Jacqueline Winspear, and her books about Maisie Dobbs are set around the time of WWI, on her website she wrote an essay about her trip to France to tour the battlefields of The Somme and Ypres. In the course of reading about the war, I discovered that both J.R.R. Tolkein and Adolf Hitler were at the battle, I'm speechless.
Construction Photos- Week 28
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