Duncan Campbell Scott (1862 – 1947) – Canadian poet, writer and Civil Servant

Duncan was born on 2nd August 1863 in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. His parens were the Rev. William Scott and his wife, Janet, nee MacCallum. Educated at Stanstead Wesleyan College, Duncan also learnt to play the piano and became an accomplished pianist.  

Duncan’s ambition was to study medicine and become a doctor, but that was too expensive.  In 1879 he joined the federal civil service and worked as a Civil Servant, spending all his working life in the same branch of government - the Department of Indian Affairs. In 1913, Duncan became Deputy Superintendent of Indian Affairs, the highest non-elected position possible in his department, and remained in the post until his retirement in 1932.

In 1894, Duncan married Belle Botsford, a concert violinist, who he had met at a recital in Ottawa. They had one child, Elizabeth, who died when she was12 years old.

Belle died in 1929 and in 1931 Duncan married the poet Elise Aylen. After his retirement, Duncan and Elise spent much of the 1930s and 1940s travelling in Europe, Canada and the United States of America. 

Duncan died in December 1947 in Ottawa at the age of 85 and was buried in Ottawa's Beechwood Cemetery.

Photo of Scott with Rupert Brooke from Rupert Booke Remembered Facebook Page:

As a poet, Duncan became a member of the group known as the "Confederation poets" which also included Charles G.D. Roberts, Bliss Carman and Archibald Lampman.  Duncan’s first poetry collection, “The Magic House and Other Poems”, was published in 1893 and was followed by seven more volumes of verse: Labor and the Angel (1898), New World Lyrics and Ballads (1905), Via Borealis (1906), Lundy's Lane and Other Poems (1916), Beauty and Life (1921), The Poems of Duncan Campbell Scott (1926) and The Green Cloister (1935).

“The Fallen” by Duncan Campbell Scott 

Those we have loved the dearest,

The bravest and the best,

Are summoned from the battle

To their eternal rest;

There they endure the silence,

Here we endure the pain —

He that bestows the Valor

Valor resumes again.

O, Master of all Being,

Donor of Day and Night,

Of Passion and of Beauty,

Of Sorrow and Delight,

Thou gav'st them the full treasure

Of that heroic blend —

The Pride, the Faith, the Courage,

That holdeth to the end.

Thou gavest us the Knowledge

Wherein their memories stir—

Master of Life, we thank Thee

That they were what they were.

Sources: Find my Past, Wikipedia,

https://allpoetry.com/poem/14330124-The-Fallen-by-Duncan-Campbell-Scott

https://www.facebook.com/rupertbrookepoet

Catherine W. Reilly “English Poetry of the First World War: A Bibliography” (St. Martin’s Press, New York, 1978) p. 400.

Robert Lee Frost (1874 – 1963) - American poet

Robert Frost c. 1910

Robert Frost was born in San Francisco, California, USA on 26th March 1874..  His parents were William Prescott Frost, Jr., a journalist and teacher, and his wife Isabelle, nee Moodie. His mother was from Scotland and his father was descended from Nicholas Frost of Tiverton, Devon, England, who sailed to New Hampshire in 1634 on the “Wolfrana”.

Robert’s first poem was published in his high school's magazine.  He studied at Harvard University from 1897 to 1899, then became a teacher.   

On 19th December 1895 Robert married Elinor White in  Massachusetts, United States.

In 1912 Robert and his family travelled to England – living initially in Beaconsfield, a small town in Buckinghamshire. His first book of poetry, “A Boy's Will”, was published the following year. In England Robert met fellow poets, including Edward Thomas (a member of the group known as the Dymock poets and Frost's inspiration for "The Road Not Taken"), T. E. Hulme, and Ezra Pound.

Robert returned to America in 1915 and bought a farm in Franconia, New Hampshire, where he launched a career of writing, teaching, and lecturing.

The following poem was written to tease his chronically indecisive friend and fellow poet Edward Thomas, who misinterpreted the meaning, enlisted in the British Army and was killed fighting on the Western Front in France on the First Day of the Battle of Arras – Easter Monday, 9th April 1917. Edward Thomas was buried in the Commonwealth War Graves Commission Cemetery at Agny, France – Row 3, 43.

“The Road Not Taken” was originally published in “The Atlantic” magazine in 1915 along with two other poems from Frost.

The Road Not Taken  BY ROBERT FROST

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I —

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Sources:  

Find my Past, Wikipedia, 

Catherine W. Reilly “English Poetry of the First World War: A Bibliography” (St. Martin’s Press, New York, 1978), p. 396

https://forgottenpoetsofww1.blogspot.com/2019/03/edward-thomas-1878-

Robert Bagster Wilson Vinter, MC (1896 – 1916) – British soldier and poet

With grateful thanks to Rachel Hassall, Archivist at Sherborne School, Dorset, UK

Robert was born in Torpoint, St. Germans, Cornwall, UK on 5th April 1896.  His parents were Sydney Garrett Vinter, a medical practitioner, and his wife, Frances Vinter, nee Toms.  Robert had a sister – Frances Jean, born 1904.

Educated at Sherborne School, Dorset, Robert was awarded a scholarship to study at Keble College, Oxford.  However, the First World War intervened and instead he was commissioned as a Second Lieutenant into the 6th Worcestershire Regiment.  

Posted to the Western Front, Robert was awarded the Military Cross on 28th July 1916 for conspicuous gallantry during an attack on an enemy crater.   He was killed in action near Les Boeufs (Vimy Ridge) in France on 31st October 1916, during the Battle of the Somme.  Robert is remembered on the Thiepval Memorial in France and on the War Memorial in Torpoint, Cornwall.  

An untitled poem written by Robert:

The Saviour fast nailed to the Cross,

Suffered theloss of comforting divine

Because the world’s sin burdened him too much

With black despair. Some of that sin was mine.

Hard sought, scarce won, He set my spirit right

And bade me follow up th’illumined way!

Nor leaves me now amid the rocks and thorns,

Uncomforted, but is my staff and stay.

October, 1916 R.B.W.V.

Published in “The Shirburnian” magazine of Sherborne School in April 1917. 

Sources:

“The Shirburnian” magazine, April 1917

Find my Past, FreeBMD, 

“Supplement to The London Gazette, 27 July 1916

http://somme-roll-of-honour.com/Units/british/2nd_worcestershire.htm

The Rev. Geoffrey Anktell Studdert Kennedy MC, CF (1883 - 1929) – British Anglican priest, Rugby player, poet and WW1 Chaplain, who was known as 'Woodbine Willy'

Born in Leeds, Yorkshire, UK, on 27th June 1883, Geoffrey Anktell Studdert Kennedy’s parents were William Studdert Kennedy, Vicar of St Mary's, Quarry Hill in Leeds, and his wife, Jeanette, nee Anktell.  Geoffrey was the seventh of nine children. His paternal grandfather, Robert Mitchell Kennedy, was Dean of Clonfert in County Galway, Ireland from 1850 until his death in 1864. One of Geoffrey's brothers was Hugh A. Studdert Kennedy, a biographer of American religious leader Mary Baker Eddy.

Geoffrey was educated at Leeds Grammar School before going on to study at Trinity College, Dublin, Ireland, where he gained a degree in classics and divinity in 1904. After a year's training at Ripon Clergy College, a Church of England theological college in Cuddesdon, Oxfordshire, Geoffrey became a curate at St Andrew's Church, Rugby, and then, in 1914, the Vicar of St. Paul's, Worcester.

When the First World War began, Geoffrey volunteered as a Chaplain to the British Army on the Western Front, where he gained the nickname "Woodbine Willie". In 1917, he was awarded the Military Cross at Messines Ridge after running into no man's land to help the wounded during an attack on the German frontline.

During the war he supported the British military effort with enthusiasm. Attached to a bayonet-training service, Geoffrey toured with boxers and wrestlers to give morale-boosting speeches about the usefulness of the bayonet. One of his inspirational speeches is vividly described by A. S. Bullock as "the most extraordinary talk I ever heard'. Bullock notes that the listeners 'were a very rough, tough lot, but they sat spellbound", and quotes a section of the speech, at the end of which "everybody sprang to their feet and cheered him to the echo".

Geoffrey wrote a number of poems about his experiences, and these were published by Hodder & Stoughton under the tittles “Rough Rhymes of a Padre” (1918), “More Rough Rhymes”(1919), “Songs of faith and doubt” (1922), “The Sorrows of God, and other poems” (1921) and a collection of his works was published under the title “The Unutterable Beauty” by Hodder & Stoughton in 1927.

Geoffrey also had a poem published in “A Treasury of War Poetry : British and American poems of the World War, 1914 – 1919” edited by George Herbert Clarke (Hodder & Stoughton, 1919). 

THE SECRET

You were askin' 'ow we sticks it, 

Sticks this blarsted rain and mud,

'Ow it is we keeps on smilin'

When the place runs red wi' blood.

Since you're askin' I can tell ye,

And I thinks I tells ye true,

But it ain't official, mind ye,

It's a tip twixt me and you.

For the General thinks it's tactics,

And the bloomin' plans 'e makes.

And the C.O. thinks it's trainin',

And the trouble as he takes.

Sergeant-Major says it's drillin',

And 'is straffin' on parade,

Doctor swears it's sanitation,

And some patent stinks 'e's made.

Padre tells us its religion,

And the Spirit of the Lord;

But I ain't got much religion,

And I sticks it still, by Gawd.

Quarters kids us it's the rations,

And the dinners as we gets.

But I knows what keeps us smilin'

It's the Woodbine Cigarettes.

For the daytime seems more dreary,

And the night-time seems to drag

To eternity of darkness,

When ye ave'nt got a fag.

Then the rain seems some'ow wetter,

And the cold cuts twice as keen,

And ye keeps on seein' Boches,

What the Sargint 'asn't seen.

If ole Fritz 'as been and got ye,

And ye 'ave to stick the pain,

If ye 'aven't got a fag on,

Why it 'urts as bad again.

When there ain't no fags to pull at,

Then there's terror in the ranks.

That's the secret - (yes, I'll 'ave one)

Just a fag - and many Tanks.

'Woodbine Willy'

THE SPIRIT

When there ain't no gal to kiss you,

And the postman seems to miss you,

And the fags have skipped an issue,

Carry on.

When ye've got an empty belly,

And the bulley's rotten smelly,

And you're shivering like a jelly,

Carry on.

When the Boche has done your chum in,

And the sergeant's done the rum in,

And there ain't no rations comin',

Carry on.

When the world is red and reeking,

And the shrapnel shells are shrieking,

And your blood is slowly leaking,

Carry on.

When the broken battered trenches,

Are like the bloody butchers' benches,

And the air is thick with stenches,

Carry on.

Carry on,

Though your pals are pale and wan,

And the hope of life is gone,

Carry on.

For to do more than you can,

Is to be a British man,

Not a rotten 'also ran,'

Carry on..

'Woodbine Willy'

Sources:  Find my Past, FreeBMD, Wikipedia

Catherine W. Reilly “English Poetry of the First World War: A Bibliography” (St. Martin’s Press, New York, 1978).  Pp 5 and 185 - 186

James Reese Europe (1881 – 1919) – lyricist, composer, musician, band leader and WW1 soldier

With thanks to John Daniel for reminding me that I had not yet written about James Reese Europe, found for us by Dr. Connie Ruzich 

Born in Mobile, Alabama, USA on 22nd February 1881, James’ parents were Henry Jefferson Europe (1848–1899) and his wife Loraine Europe, nee Saxon (1849–1930).  James had four siblings, Minnie Europe (Mrs. George Mayfield; 1868–1931), Ida S. Europe (1870–1919), John Newton Europe (1875–1932), and Mary Loraine (1883–1947).  The family moved to Washington, D.C., when James was 10 years old. 

During the First World War, James was commissioned into the New York Army National Guard and served as a Lieutenant with the 369th Infantry Regiment (known as the "Harlem Hellfighters") when it was assigned to the French Army. James was the first African-American officer to enter the trenches of WW1 and the first  to lead troops in combat.

Additional information from John Daniel:  France awarded the Regiment the Croix de Guerre. One hundred-and-seventy-one of the Regiment's men received individual Croix de Guerre medals for their valour during the First World War. 

While in France James directed the regimental band to great acclaim. In February and March 1918, James Reese Europe and his military band travelled over 2,000 miles in France, performing for British, French and American military audiences, as well as French civilians. 

The "Hellfighters" also made their first recordings in France for the Pathé Brothers. The first concert included a French march, and the Stars and Stripes Forever, as well as syncopated numbers such as "The Memphis Blues", which, according to a later description of the concert by band member Noble Sissle "... started ragtimitis in France".

Injured during a gas attack, James used his time in hospital to compose music; among the songs he wrote while recuperating was “On Patrol in No Man’s Land.”° 

“On Patrol in No Man’s Land”

What's the time? nine? all in line

Alright, boys, now take it slow

Are you ready? Steady!

Very good, Eddie.

Over the top, let's go

Quiet, sly it, else you'll start a riot

Keep your proper distance, follow 'long

Cover, smother, when you see me hover

Obey my orders and you won't go wrong

There's a minnenwerfer coming --                               

look out (bang!)

Hear that roar, there's one more 

Stand fast, there's a Very Light                                   

Don't gasp or they'll find you alright

Don't start to bombing with those hand grenades

There's a machine gun, holy spades!

Alert, gas! Put on your masks

A-just it correctly and hurry up fast

Drop! There's a rocket for the Boche barrage                  

Down, hug the ground,

close as you can, don't stand

Creep and crawl, follow me, that's all

What do you hear? Nothing near

Don't fear, all is clear

That's the life of a stroll

When you take a patrol

Out in No Man's Land!

Ain't it grand?

Out in No Man's Land.

James Reese Europe

You can listen to the 1919 recording of the song here. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YeIET9ZIkGk

After his return home in February 1919, James stated, "I have come from France more firmly convinced than ever that Negros should write Negro music. We have our own racial feeling and if we try to copy whites we will make bad copies ... We won France by playing music which was ours and not a pale imitation of others, and if we are to develop in America we must develop along our own lines."   

James was one of the first African-American musicians to make it to mainstream - James Reese Europe (more commonly known as “Jim Europe”) was the first black bandleader to record in the United States and the first to conduct a black orchestra performing ragtime/jazz music on the concert stage of New York’s Carnegie Hall.

James died on 9th May1919 and was buried in Arlington National Cemetery · Arlington,  Arlington County, Virginia, USA.

Sources:  Information kindly supplied by John Daniel, Wikipedia 

https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/6553895/james-reese-europe   and 

https://behindtheirlines.blogspot.com/2017/02/out-in-no-mans-land.html

Dudley Eyre Persse (1892 - 1915) – Irish poet and WW1 soldier

 

With grateful thanks to Ciaran Conlan for finding the link that led to the discovery of this forgotten WW1 soldier poet and to Derek O Byrne White for his help in discovering that Dudley was a poet and finding out more about him.   

Dudley Eyre Persse was born on 14th August 1892 at Eyrecourt, Portumna, County Galway, Ireland (Eire).  His parents were Alfred Lovaine Persse and his wife, Florence Geraldine Persse, nee Eyre.

On the Census of 1911, when he was 18 and listed as a scholar, Dudley was recorded living in his parents' house at 20.2 Grove Park (Rathmines & Rathgar West, Dublin).

During the First World War, Dudley served as a Captain in the Royal Dublin Fusiliers, Unit 4th Batallion, attached to 2nd Batallion. He was seriously wounded while on active service on the Western Front -   

‘He saw some Germans going into a wood some distance off and wanted to telephone to the General.  There was no telephone in the trench, so he ran 80 yards across the open in a hail of bullets and telephoned from another trench. The General ordered the wood to be shelled at once and commended him for what he had done. He also found that the Germans were mining the trench, and started counter-mining, which stopped the enemy’s game, so he did all he could bravely, poor boy.’ (De Ruvigny’s Roll of Honour)

Sadly, Dudley died of his wounds  on 1st February 1915 at No. 2 Casualty Clearing Station, Bailleul, France.  Dudley was buried in Bailleul Communal Cemetery, Bailleul, Departement du Nord, Nord-Pas-de-Calais, France; Grave Reference:  PLOT F. 6.

Derek O Byrne White put me in touch with Gerard Kearnery  who has published two books about the extremely interesting Persse Family – “The Perse Family of County Galloway” and “In Days That Were: The Great War and Beyond” – both  books are available to purchase from http://www.kennys.ie

I am hoping to be able to up-date this post with further information.

Sources:

A tag from Ciaran Conlan on a post on a Facebook page commemorating Irish Soldiers of WW1

Additional Sources:  

https://catalogue.nli.ie/Record/vtls000134590

https://www.wikitree.com/wiki/Persse-173

https://www.clarelibrary.ie/eolas/coclare/history/clare_men_women_great_war_29.pdf