The Soldier (p.1098)

In the poem The Soldier, by Rupert Brooke, patriotism and national pride are given a fitting requiem.  The poem written to be read at a memorial service, as it was in Brooke’s memorial, describes a soldier who was born and bred in England and shaped by its environment.  The pride with which the narrator describes his special background lets the reader know that only a select few could claim such citizenship and belong to this elite group.

In reading the poem I was smiling as I thought of a proud young man honored to be an Englishman and prouder still to have enjoyed the benefit of a life formed in a special way, “A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,/ Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,”. (lines 5&6) The verses have a romantic air that the reader feels as much as reads.  When I thought of a young man representing his country and proud to claim his heritage it was heartwarming.  I tire of reading critic after critic complain about how bad it is in our country at this time.  To be the “hated American” across the globe is tiresome to the point of making me sick of hearing the complaint instead of being ashamed to be an American.  To read a poem about a young man so proud of who he is, where he is from, and how special it was to be privileged in that way, I was refreshed. 

Although the poem is called The Soldier, I didn’t pick up on any military theme or any of the ugliness of war.  The poem almost seemed to be about a young man taken far from home and longing for home in a way that he suddenly appreciated what home was and what it meant to claim that place as his home.  The poem could have been plucked from the inside breast pocket of a man saving his final thoughts for someone close to read in the event of his passing.  It could have been an old man or a young man, someone traveling on business or someone forced to fight in a foreign war.  The fact that the title claims the latter as the narrator gives the feeling that it could have been written in a foxhole on a dark, damp night while the writer was frightened and thinking of a pleasant past as a pacifier for the long lonely night.  As I thought of the poem in that setting it gave the words an added poignancy.  That feeling found its mark with the final verses of the poem, “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.” (lines 11-14) I wonder if Brooke dreamed of England while he was away and believed there was a special place in heaven for him after he was gone.