A 1915 Poem

[Greyhound]

Going through the local paper archives for the war years, there are quite a lot of patriotic or sentimental poems, often reprinted from the national press. I found this one, written by a local person - a bit of detective work with the census suggests it was an elderly lady.

OUR VILLAGE BELLS

On the battlefield a soldier lay,

Fatally wounded and passing away.

Of cold, or thirst, or awful pain

He spoke not. Only whispered again,

“I hear our village bells.”

A wounded comrade lying near

Said, “Nothing but sorrowful sounds I hear,

Distant firing, and men in pain.”

But the soldier softly spoke again,

“They are ringing – our village bells.”

With a weary step the doctor passed,

A pitying look on the lad he cast.

“I can do nothing for you,” he said with a sigh.

But the soldier smiled as he made reply,

“My beautiful village bells.

“I remember my father to me did say,

As we went to the church one holy day,

“Keep this in your heart, wherever you roam,

Come home to God, to God come home,”

Thus speaketh the village bells.

“I am coming home, father, my heart grows light,

The bells are ringing – Come home tonight,

It’s the dear old time, abide with me,

Now at eventide, father, I come to thee,

Still are ringing my village bells.

“Our old church bells, how sweet and clear,

The days of my childhood are very near.

I often stayed in my mirth and glee

To hear the beautiful melody

Of these dear village bells.

“Familiar faces seem around

This cold, hard bed is holy ground.

My pain is gone; no more I weep,

These bells are ringing me to sleep,

How softly ring the bells.”

Down through the dark clouds came an angel bright,

His raiment as snow, his face as the light.

And the soldier passed to another clime

Where angel hands rang a sweeter chime

Than even those village bells.

"Dreadful sentimental doggerel," said a friend to whom I showed it on the way home from the library. But he still wiped away a tear!

[J T Gray]

Thanks for posting that, Greyhound. Just goes to show how tastes change - the Victorians (OK, so we'd had an Ed and a George by 1914 but...) loved that sort of thing.

Mind, he wouldn't think like that if he'd heard our local band ringing....

Adrian

(including himself...)

[Pighills]

That was beautiful, thank you

[Gunboat]

Hmmmmm it isn't to my taste but it is typical of the tastes of that period and so I shouldnt be too sniffy about it. It is no worse than the jingoistic nonsense wriiten then