James Lyons (1896 - 1918) - British Soldier Poet

The poet Robert Cochrane, a graduate of Manchester Metropolitan University, has written a fantastic book about James Lyons which I urge you to read.  Robert has extensively researched James Lyons and reprinted some of his poems in a book entitled "Do you Remember - the selected poems of James Lyons", published by The Bad Press, Manchester in 2018.

James is featured in Catherine W. Reilly's "English Poetry of the First World War: A Bibliography" but the only details Reilly gives are that James was a Private in the Royal Army Medical Corps and that his WW1 poetry collections were "Sons of the Empire, and other poems" (Heywood, Manchester, 1916) and "Gleam o' pearls (poems)" (Cornish, Mancheter 1919).

Robert Cochrane has also produced a CD of some of the poems written by James Lyons set to music.

For further information, please contact The Bad Press, PO Box 76, Manchester M21 8HJ or via their website www.thebadpress.co.uk  or via Facebook https://www.facebook.com/thebadpressmanchester/

A.A. Milne (1882 – 1956) – British writer and poet

Alan Alexander Milne was born on 18th January 1882 in Kilburn, London.  His father was John Vine Milne, a public schoolmaster, and his mother Sarah Marie Milne, nee Heginbotham.  Alan had two brothers – David B. and Kenneth John.   Alan married Dorothy “Daphne” de Selincourt in 1913.   He was also a member of J.M. Barrie's recreational cricket team the 'Allahakbarries'.

Commissioned into the Royal Warwickshire Regiment as a 2nd Lieutenant on 17th February 1915, Alan was posted to The Somme in the summer of 1916.   He contracted Trench Fever while there and was sent back to Britain to recover.  After that he joined the Royal Corps of Signals and later worked for Military Intelligence.

Alan and Dorothy’s son Christopher Robin was born in 1925.

During the Second World War, Alan was a Captain in the Home Guard. 

A.A. Milne's WW1 poetry collection "For the luncheon interval: cricket and other verses" was published in 1925 by Methuen, London. 

Hedd Wyn - Bardic name of Ellis Humphrey Evans (1887 - 1917) - Welsh Poet

Ellis Humphrey Evans was born on 13th January 1887.  He was the eldest of eleven children born to Evan Evans and his wife Mary, nee Morris.  Evan was also a poet.  Ellis was brought up on the family farm near Trawsfynydd in Wales, where he worked as a shepherd after leaving school, during which time he wrote most of his poetry.

Ellis wrote his first poem at the age of eleven and won 6 Bardic Chairs for his poetry.  In 1910 he was allocated the name of Hedd Wyn, which translates into English from Welsh as 'blessed peace'.

Called up for military service in 1916, Ellis enlisted in the Royal Welsh Fusilier Regiment and was posted to the Western Front.  The war inspired Hedd Wyn's work and produced some of his most noted poetry, including Plant Trawsfynydd ("Children of Trawsfynydd"), Y Blotyn Du ("The Black Dot"), and Nid â'n Ango ("[It] Will Not Be Forgotten"). His poem, Rhyfel ("War"), remains one of his most frequently quoted works.

Hedd Wynn was killed on 31st July 1917, during the Battle of Passchendaele at Pickern Ridge.  Ellis was buried in Artillery Wood Cemetery, Boesinghe, Belgium.

A few weeks after his death, Ellis's poem won the Bardic Chair at the Eisteddfod, which was held in Birkenhead in 1917. The chair that year was made by a Belgian refugee.

A collection of Hedd Wyn's poems was published in 1918 under the title "Cerddi'r Bugail" (En. Tr. 'Poems of the Shepherd').  The photograph of Ellis is taken from that publication.

WAR by Hedd Wyn

Why must I live in this grim age

When, to a far horizon, God

Has ebbed away, and man, with rage

Now wields the sceptre and the rod?

Man raised his sword, once God had gone,

To slay his brother, and the roar

Of battlefields now casts upon

Our homes the shadow of the war.

The harps to which we sang are hung

On willow boughs, and their refrain

Drowned by the anguish of the young

Whose blood is mingled with the rain.

Translation by Alan Llwyd

© Alan Llwyd / Cyhoeddiadau Barddas

NOTE The Royal Welch Fusiliers (In Welsh: Ffiwsilwyr Brenhinol Cymreig) was a line infantry regiment of the British Army and part of the Prince of Wales' Division, founded in 1689 shortly after the Glorious Revolution. In 1702, it was designated a fusilier regiment and became The Welch Regiment of Fusiliers; the prefix "Royal" was added in 1713, then confirmed in 1714 when George I named it The Prince of Wales's Own Royal Regiment of Welsh Fusiliers. After the 1751 reforms that standardised the naming and numbering of regiments, it became the 23rd Foot (Royal Welsh Fuzileers).

The Regiment retained the archaic spelling of Welch, instead of Welsh, and Fuzileers for Fusiliers; these were engraved on swords carried by regimental officers during the Napoleonic Wars. After the 1881 Childers Reforms, its official title was The Royal Welsh Fusiliers, but "Welch" continued to be used informally until restored in 1920 by Army Order No.56.

Researching for the 2017 Exhibition was particularly poignant for me because my Great Uncle James was killed on the first day of the Battle of Arras - 9th April 1917 - which was Easter Monday that year.  Poets killed on that day include Canadian William Maunsell Scanlan, MC, MM and British poets Edward Thomas, R.E. Vernède and Walter Lightowler Wilkinson.

Hedd Wyn was among the poets included in the "Arras, Messines, Passchendaele & More" exhibition held at the Award-winning Wilfred Owen Story, on the Wirral Peninsula in the north west of England.  If you are planning a visit to the Wirral, please find time to visit the Futility statue in nearby Hamilton Square.   There is also a book of the exhibition:  http://www.poshupnorth.com/2018/07/arras-messines-passchendaele-more-poets.html

Sources: http://daibach-welldigger.blogspot.com/2017/08/100-years-ago-hedd-wyn.html

http://roadstothegreatwar-ww1.blogspot.com/2021/05/remembering-veteran-welsh-poet-hedd-wyn.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+RoadsToTheGreatWar+%28Roads+to+the+Great+War%29

http://www.lgac.org/poetry/HeddWynPoems.html

https://www.literaturewales.org/our-projects/poetry-of-loss/hedd-wyn-1887-1917/

Alexander Robertson (1882 - 1916) - British Schoolteacher & Poet

The poet Alexander Robertson was born on 12th January 1882 in Edinburgh, Scotland.

Alexander featured in the exhibition of Poets, Writers and Artists of the Somme, 1916 which was on display at the Award-winning Wilfred Owen Story in Birkenhead, Wirral, UK in 2016. 

Alexander was born in St. Cuthbert's, Edinburgh, the eldest son and second child of five born to Robert Robertson, a schoolteacher, and his wife Mary Jane Robertson.

After studying at Edinburgh University, Alexander taught history before going up to Oxford.  He took up a post at Sheffield University in February 1914.   

When war broke out, Alexander volunteered and joined the 12th (Service) (Sheffield) Battalion of the York and Lancaster Regiment as a Private.   The Battalion was sent to Egypt before being deployed to the Western Front.  Alexander was killed on the first day of the Battle of the Somme - 1st July 1916 - near Serre.   His body was not recovered but he is remembered on the Thiepval Mamorial, Pier and Face 14 A and 14 B.

At the time of his death on the Western Front on 1st July 1916, Alexander was an Acting Corporal.

Alexander Robertson 

Alexander's WW1 Poetry collections were:  "Comrades, poems" (Elkin Mathews, London, 1916) and "Last Poems" published after his death by Elkin Mathews in 1918.  Alexander's poems were included in six WW1 anthologies, including "The Muse in Arms".

There is a book of the Somme Poets 1916 Exhibition http://www.poshupnorth.com/2016/06/the-somme-1916-available-1st-july-pre.html

“Lines before going” 

Soon is the night of our faring to regions unknown,

There not to flinch at the challenge suddenly thrown

By the great process of Being – daily to see

The utmost that life has of horror and yet to be

Calm and the masters of fear. Aware that the soul

Lives as a part and alone for the weal of the whole,

So shall the mind be free from the pain of regret,

Vain and enfeebling, firm in each venture, and yet

Brave not as those who despair, but keen to maintain,

Though not assured, hope in beneficent pain,

Hope that the truth of the world is not what appears,

Hope in the triumph of man for the price of his tears.

Alexander Robertson from "Comrades" published in "THE MUSE IN ARMS 

A COLLECTION OF WAR POEMS, FOR THE MOST 

PART WRITTEN IN THE FIELD OF ACTION, BY 

SEAMEN, SOLDIERS, AND FLYING MEN WHO ARE 

SERVING, OR HAVE SERVED, IN THE GREAT WAR" 

EDITED BY E.B. OSBORN   (JOHN MURRAY, London, 1917), page 44.

Sources:

Find my Past,

Catherine W. Reilly “English Poetry of the First World War: A Bibliography” (St. Martin’s Press, New York, 1978) p. 276.

https://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poet/alexander-robertson/

André Soriac (1864 – 1927) – French poet

André Soriac, known as the ‘poet of the Trenches’, was the pen name of Robert Edouard André Bucquet.

Robert Edouard André Bucquet was born in around 1864 in St Egrève, Isère, France.    A French soldier poet artist -  a ‘Poilu’ - Soriac was fifty when he volunteered to join the French Army in 1914.  He joined the 277th Regiment of the French Infantry and served in Lorraine in France. Soriac took part in the Battle of Verdun and was wounded three times before being invalided out of the Army in 1916.  Between 1915 and 1916, he published four series of illustrated postcards with poems.

In April 1921, André married Leonie Eugenie Adèle Boots, who was the daughter of a wealthy Maastricht family.  Léonie taught French at a Nijmegen secondary school for girls. They had one child – a son, André, who was born on 29th December 1922, 

André Soriac died in Nijmegen in the Netherlands on 12th August 1927. He may have committed suicide due to prolonged depression caused by his wartime suffering. Between 1922 and 1925 he traded in postage stamps.

The French soldiers of the First World War were known affectionately as ‘Poilus’ (literally, the hairy ones), presumably because it was impossible to shave in the Trenches.   Verdun is a city on the River Meuse in Lorraine in the north east of France.

Below is one of André’s poems. I have translated it very roughly for those of you who do not understand French.  As far as I have been able to ascertain, Diane Degaby was a musical hall artist.

‘Nos Bagues’ a poem by André Soriac

Dedicated to ‘la belle Diane Degaby, la Bienfaitrice Amie de tous les Poilus Artistes – affectueusement’.

La rafale est passée et les Poilus bien vite
Sans souci des obus, une Pioche à la main,
Bondissent des abris dans un trou de marmite
Pour retrouver au fond le blanc metal germain!...

Et puis, c’est l’atelier dans un coin des tranchées …
Quelques menus outils, une lime, un Marteau,
Pour polir nuit et jour ces bagues guillochées,
Hier … instrument de mort, aujourd’hui … humble aurea.

La bague est terminée et demain, bonnes mères,
Femmes, petites soeurs, ces bijoux des frontiers
Terniront à vos doigts vos plus riches joyaux!...
Car, toutes, vous saurez combine de moments tristes
De soucis, de dangers, vos chers Poilus-Artistes
Ont vécus pour la faire … au fond de leurs boyaux.

No. 28, 3e Série de Cartes-Sonnets illustrées de la Guerre, Edition Cigolia, 8, rue de Condé, Paris 6e.

‘Our Rings’

Dedicated to The Beautiful Diane Degaby, Benefactrice and friend of all the artist-poilus, with great affection.

The storm has passed and the Poilus rush
Heedless of the shells, shovels at the ready,
Leaping from their shelter in a shell hole
Gathering up the spent, white, German metal.

Then, it’s action stations in a corner of the Trench …
A workshop with a few scant tools, a file, a hammer to hand,
Polishing night and day these machine-turned rings.
Yesterday an instrument of death, today … a humble gold band.

The ring is ready and tomorrow, dear Mothers,
Wives, little sisters, these jewels of the frontiers
Will shine – your most valued jewels – on your fingers.
For you will know just many countless moments of sorrow
Of care and danger your dear soldier artists
Have been through to make that ring … in the depths of their Trenches.

Number 28 in a series of illustrated poem cards of the Great War, published by Editions Cigola, 8 rue de Condé, Paris 6.

The Hon. Ivar Campbell (1890 – 1916) – British soldier poet

With thanks to Connie Ruzich for reminding me I had not posted this information.

Born on 14th May 1890, Ivar’s parents were Lord George Granville Campbell and his wife, Sybil Lascelles Alexander. Ivar’s grandfather was the 8th Duke of Argyll. Ivar’s siblings were Joan and Enid.

The family lived in Strrachur Park, Argyll, Scotland and Bryanston Square, London.  Educated at Stone House School, Broadstairs, Eton and Christ Church College, Oxford, Ivar was sent as an honorary Attaché to the British Embassy in Washington, 1912 – 1914.

When war broke out, Ivar volunteered to join the Army but was rejected due to defective eyesight. Instead, he joined an American Red Cross Society unit in France as an ambulance driver.  In February 1915, he was commissioned into the 1st Seaforth Highlanders Regiment and posted to the Western Front.  In May 1916, his Regiment deployed to Mesopotamia. Leading his men against the Turkish position at Sheikh Saad on 7th January 1916, Ivar was shot and died of his wounds the following day. He is remembered on Panel 41 on the Basra Memorial in Iraq.

After his death, Ivar’s friends and family published: “Letters of Ivar Campbell London” Privately Printed, 1917 and “The Prose Writings of Ivar Campbell”.  He had a poem published in Frederic W. Ziv’s anthology “The Valiant Muse: An Anthology of Poems by Poets killed in the World War” (Putnam, New York, 1936).

“A Meditation upon the Return of the Greeks”

Trojan War, 5th c. BC terracotta cup
When in their long lean ships the Greek host weighted
Their splashing anchors, then they had much joy
For lovely Helen’s sake to humble Troy…
Their first deed was the murder of a maid.†

Ten years from their pleasant land they stayed,
And after ten years, had they any joy?
They had old Helen, and they humbled Troy:
Were they at her lost loveliness dismayed?

Thinking of their lost Youth were they afraid?
Was Youth worth more than Helen—Helen of Troy?
Was it for this tired face they had spent joy?

"For What," Frederick H. Varley
Canadian War Museum
For this tall, weary woman burnt a maid?

When on that quiet night the Greek host laid
Down their dinted armour, had they any joy?

Ivar Campbell

Ivar is rmembered in the little book "Poets' Corners in Foreign Fields".

The sketch of Ivar Campbell is from "Prose Writings of Ivar Campbell".

https://behindtheirlines.blogspot.com/2019/01/joyless-victory.html?fbclid=IwAR3mY2DpYZr3xQVjxSsdz3YqNkvFAIuLA0gPgbhg5Jbf0NK5ZbR7AiL1wf4

Egbert Thomas Sandford (1871 – 1949) – British

With thanks to Connie Ruzich for reminding me I hadn't researched Egbert

Egbert Thomas Sandford was born on 26th March 1871 in Dorking, UK.  He had several of his WW1 poetry collections published - "Brookdown, and other poems" (Erskine Macdonald, London 1915), "Mad Moments: Poems" (Maunsel, Dublin, 1919) and "Poems" (Burns, Oates & Washbourne, 1927). His poems were published in four WW1 anthologies.

Egbert’s Mother was Emily Sandford, nee Biddle, who was born in1842.

In 1893, Egbert married Annie Louisa Harris and they had had a son, Egbert Theodore, born in 1896, who served as a Second Lieutenant in the Devonshire Regiment during the First World War.

Here is one of Egbert's poems:

“At Bethlehem—1915”

The travelers are astir—
        Bearing frowns for incense,
Scorns for myrrh.

War flings its sign afar—
        There’s blood upon the Manger,
Blood upon the Star.

Dear Lord:
        Who fain would find the Saviour
Find the Sword.

E.T. Sandford

In the Introduction to his WW1 poetry collection “Brookdown & Other Poems”, WW1 Female Poets S. Gertrude Ford says:

“Mr. Egbert J. Sandford describes himself as "… an ordinary working man," whose whole effort, so far as his art is concerned, is to " take the common things of life and weave them into song." How far he has succeeded in this effort may be gathered from the fact that a number of the poems here collected have appeared in the Spectator, the Poetry Review, the Westminster Gazette and Great Thoughts. The poem to his brother bard, the street salesman Mr. Wm. Shepperley, is re- printed from the Evening Standard. To the editors of these papers our thanks are due for their courtesy in permitting republication.

In his working hours Mr. Sandford is a storehouseman at Plymouth, and is at present employed in that capacity under the Government. The chief literary influences in his life have been William Blake and Francis Thompson, and a literary class at Blackheath has been his chief means of encouragement and
inspiration. To one of its talented lecturers— Mr. Albert A. Cock, B.A. — he owes the friendly notice of Mr. Strachey, editor of the Spectator. Several other critics have since given him a generous meed of praise.   S. Gertrude Ford”

It is easy to see how people mistake the T for a J...

Initial Source: Catherine W. Reilly "English Poetry of the First World War: A Bibliography" (St. Martin's Press, New York, 1978) p. 284

Poem from Connie Ruzich website Behind Their Lines: https://behindtheirlines.blogspot.com/…/12/bethlehem-1915.h…

“Brookdown & Other Poems” is available as a down-load on Archive:
https://archive.org/stream/brookdownotherpo00sandiala/brookdownotherpo00sandiala_djvu.txt