Embsay Station quintisentially English

I was reading some of Rupert Brooke yesterday

and was put in mind in this year of commemoration

of the 'blessings of the suns of England'

 

 

On such a lovely day in such idyllic surroundings

who could not be thankful for our blessed land.

 

Here his most poignant sonnet.

 

IF I should die, think only this of me:
    That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is forever 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 the 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.