Showing posts with label March eighteenth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label March eighteenth. Show all posts

March 18, 2010

March Eighteenth

At The End
...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.

-- by Rupert Brooke's friend William Denis Browne