I heard on the radio a poem by Rupert Brooke which was all about WWI and was so moved I was prompted (as I do about a lot of things) to look him up on the net. Not only did he have an uncanny likeness to Hugh Grant, but sadly he died so young.
Here are a few words written by his closest friend upon his death...
...I sat with Rupert. At 4 o’clock he became weaker, and at 4.46 he died, with the sun shining all round his cabin, and the cool sea-breeze blowing through the door and the shaded windows. No one could have wished for a quieter or a calmer end than in that lovely bay, shielded by the mountains and fragrant with sage and thyme.
Profound words, and such a beautiful rendition of someone's death
I thought, with all the poppy fever and talk of the Great War, I'd share that one with you.
Do look up his poetry, especially the one about going off to war, it's pretty powerful stuff.
PS thank you to all those who have recently purchased my book.