If with parachute and gun
The Nazis come and I get one,
Richer for his blood will blow
Kentish flowers which we know
On some sunny slope whereby
We encounter, he and I;
Or stronger some dog-daisy grow
Underneath a summer sky.
Or, when the hills of chalk are dry
And golden are the stalks of grass,
Some patch of thyme with deeper glow
May cheer whoever chance to pass,
Or tempt and feed the wandering bee
With that blood from oversea;
Of brighter shall a borage shine
Or sweeter smell some eglantine.
And just the same if he gets me.
- Evening Standard.