This is quite a long poem which Auntie Babs wrote in March 1916.  Entitled “The Spring After” I see from the notebook that it was published in “The Quest” 1916.  I am not sure whether this was a newspaper or a magazine and have not had much success in searching online.

The Spring After

Oh, my beloved, Spring is here again –
The wayward English Spring you loved so well.
But you, alas, lie cold in yonder grave
And yet, not you – you have gone on – but that
Which once I knew as you, the dear familiar smile
All, all the dear warm, loving, human you
Ah, my beloved, in your narrow grave
Lies all that made life beautiful to me.

Yet even now I cannot quite believe
That I shall no more hear your step upon the stair
Or hear you call “Come for a walk with me”.
Oh why did I so often answer “No”?
(It was too hot…too cold…or I was busy then)
And disappointed you would turn away and go alone.
Ah, my dear love, I dare not think
How little I did then to comfort you.

Today I went your favourite walk
Across the Downs and home along the shore.
It looked so peaceful in the soft Spring light
‘Twas difficult to realise that only
A little further than mine eyes could see
The guns were roaring forth their song of death
With dread monotony – those cruel guns
That laid you in the dust and left me desolate.

Oh, my dear love, bend down a listening ear
For sometimes I’m afraid that when death calls
For me, and I shall journey hence
You will have gone too far in that fair land
Where souls are perfected, for me to come to you
So, my beloved, promise this one thing
That when I lie all passionless and still
You will come back and lead my poor soul forth

And thus with hands close clasped in spirit land
We will ascend the golden stair
And kneel before the mercy seat and pray
That we may thus together journey on
Until we reach the perfect peace of heaven.

Beatrice Helen Poole
July 1916

Many of Auntie Babs’ poems were noticeably driven by her strong Christian faith and some do not stand the test of time, but it is still good to see them in print.