That's one of my least favourite poems by RB, elle! 6 uses of England or Englsh in one sonnet of 14 lines. Plus he seems to claim Heaven as English. I wonder if he would have written the same thing had he actually seen/done any fighting?
I have already written what is to be sung/played at my funeral. I have chosen (among others) a few lines from Brooke's "The Great Lover". I thought it would be rather a good joke-
"I have been so great a lover: filled my days
So proudly with the splendour of Love's praise"
after some more of this tosh, we get to the heart of the matter-
"These I have loved:
White plates and cups, clean-gleaming
Ringed with blue lines; and feathery, faery dust;
Wet roofs beneath the lamp-light.....
Rainbows; and the blue bitter smoke of wood"
I know "Grantchester" by heart. You must know the last two lines, elle
"Stands the Church clock at ten to three?
And is there honey still for tea?"