I have found it really difficult to choose the poems from Auntie Babs’ notebooks.  There are so many more I could  have included but felt that my time would be better spent getting all of them into print somehow, somewhere.  I am closing this blog with her poem written on 25th November 1918, sixteen days after the First World War officially came to an end.  It is entitled “THE RETURN”. The poem describes the passing of time from the spring and summer of 1918 through to November when at last it was all over, and those fortunate to have survived returned to their loved ones. I wanted to finish on an optimistic note and think that this is the right time to print this last poem.  It is November and we are wearing our poppies.  We will remember them.

Thanks to all the people who have taken the time to read the poems and those who have contacted me and encouraged me to pursue this venture.

THE RETURN

Hollyhocks are blooming in our garden
Hollyhocks and lilies tall and fair
Roses red and white and sweet carnations
Shed their fragrance on the golden air!

In a tree a thrush is gaily singing
Tender songs to his wee downy dear
But to me the place is sad and lonely
For alas my dear one is not here.

All the flowers are faded in our garden
No bird sings and skies are overcast
But to me the whole world sings in glory
For my love, my love is home at last.

Beatrice Helen Poole
November 25th 1918.

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.

• I first visited Auntie Babs when she lived in London and when she came to live in Penn, Wolverhampton with her nephew Christopher Poole and his wife Mary,  she used to tell me stories about her life as a companion to a lady called Miss Fisher.  I got the impression that they lived quite insular lives yet knew many artistic people, writers, painters and musicians who became quite well known. They used to go to Brighton quite regularly.  I wish I had written down all the people she spoke about.  I found two poems in the notebooks  which were particularly about London. The first called A Remembrance is dated 1912 then In May 1914 she also wrote a poem called Lights of London. She obviously loved living there. She also used to talk fondly about The Sussex Downs and wrote a poem about them which I will include in another blog.
  
• A Remembrance
• A moon o’er head curtained in spangled blue
  Deep shadows flung across a village street.
  A little church guarded by sombre yew
  And lofty elms where rooks were wont to meet.
• A quaint old house with moss embroidered tiles
  A well loved face that I shall see no more.
  A long white road winding up hill for miles
  The lilt of waves upon a distant shore.
• What called you from the long forgotten past?
  Oh fragrant scene, where peace and beauty meet
  A moon o’er head and soft dark shadows cast
  Of gabled roofs across a London street.
• B H Poole
  1912
• Lights o’ London
• Lights o’London, Lights o’London
  Piercing through the river’s gloom
  Like small golden spiral stairways
  Leading to a magic room.
• Round quiet squares and over bridges
  Far you fling your band of light
  Stretching on a mute procession
  Till you vanish out of sight.
• Standing like a gleaming army
  Up each side of every street
  On and on through miles of darkness
  Till the last lights seem to meet.
• Magic city by Thames river
  Wrapt in sable mystery
  Sunlight, moonlight, starlight, lamplight
  There’s no place on earth like thee.
• B.H. Poole
  May 1914
• Sometimes when I am reading through these notebooks, I am overwhelmed with the words and the emotion that comes from them. Not all well written but all from the heart, they are a real treasure and I feel privileged to be the owner of the books, if not the original owner of the poems.

Inevitably most of the poems which Auntie Babs wrote during the First World War were about death and the woes of war.  This little poem was written in 1913, the year before war was declared and is entitled Friendship. I particularly like its simplicity. I don’t know whether it was about a friend who she no longer had any contact wih nor do I know whether it was written about a man or a woman. I find it rather a sad poem and wish I knew what had happened in the friendship to prompt her to write these words.       

FRIENDSHIP

And shall I never see you more my friend
Or ever hold again your hand in mine
And shall I never hear your voice again
Or in your dear eyes see a welcome shine

Though time and space divide us now my friend
And doubting thoughts have come ‘twix you and me
Though you no more may call me your dear friend
Yet still my dearest friend you’ll ever be.

Beatrice Helen Poole.

Another poem written from the heart by Beatrice Helen Poole.  They are mostly very sad but the Great War was filled with sadness therefore it is appropriate.  No month is given when she wrote this in 1916.

To a Lad Killed in Battle

I mourn you poor lad – I mourn you as a son
So young you were, so joyous and so brave
And full of life, it seems impossible
That now you are lying cold in yonder grave.

Oh youth, dear youth you were too young to die
Yet in my heart I can but envy thee
You will not feel the blighting touch of age
The gradual failing of each faculty

So hail and farewell you young and dauntless boy
Hopefully you lived yet fearlessly you died
Through long years ahead I’ll miss your presence bright
But it will remain a happy memory.

Beatrice Helen Poole
1916.

Still more to come!  I am looking into e-publishing Auntie Babs’ poems at some point towards the end of the year to include the World War One Poems but also many of her others too.  

Thanks for reading.

Those of you reading my blog will know that Beatrice Helen Poole known to us as Auntie Babs wrote many poems, and those written during and about the cruel First World War are the ones which I am featuring in my posts.  I have already mentioned in a previous post that she never married and said in her own words that she had lived in single blessedness all her life.

She never discussed any love affairs but from reading many of her poems, it is quite obvious to me that she had loved and lost. Perhaps because she was quite elderly when I started to get to know her, it was something that she no longer wanted to remember.  I probably will never know.but her poems all seem to be from genuine experiences and I would like to think she had experienced true love.

Today I have therefore selected this short poem written on May 22nd 1916.

The Wings of Love

When on the wings of love, my soul goes forth to meet you
To cheer and comfort you upon the cruel field.
Dear, do you feel me there, watching close beside you
Praying my loving heart may be for you a shield?.

Maybe you think my kiss the touch of wandering breezes
And all my glowing love the glimmer of some star.
But Oh, believe me dear, I am truly there beside you
On the strong wings of love, the journey is not far.

Beatrice Helen Poole
22 May 1916

Auntie Babs included amongst her war poems one which was dedicated to the airmen.

It is one of my personal favourites.

Our Airmen at the Front

Oh gallant heart – unconquerable spirit
Almost you seem omnipotent to me
Soaring through space in your chariot triumphant
Like some young God of old mythology.

Upward and on to the limitless blue distance
Through fleecy clouds you pierce your wondrous way
Gloriously fearless – ruthless foes pursuing
Poised in mid air like a monster bird of prey.

Hawk like you hover above fhe foes position
Swiftly returning on your giant wings
Back through the firing line with your information
Buoyant and young as are all bird like things

Oh valiant souls, you claim our admiration
Thus undismayed to face war’s fierce alarms
And when in danger may you feel beneath you
The sure support of our everlasting arms

Beatrice Helen Poole
May 18th 1915.

More next week.

I took one of Auntie Babs’ notebooks away with me on holiday so that I could choose a particularly suitable poem for today 4th August.  Already seeing the tributes on television, so moving and poignant I was right in deciding on her poem entitled “A Tribute”.  It was printed in the East Sussex News.

When I started my blog, I included some information about Beatrice (Babs) and in one blog included photographs, one of which was a scan of her words which were put into a song during the Great War by a french composer Guy D’Hardelot. This was the pen name for Helen Guy who also  composed the music to the song made famous by Mario Lanza – “Because”.

Babs knew her personally and the song is entitled “In England Now”.  I have the original sheet music.  I have also included this poem today as I feel certain it contains the sentiments of so many young men fighting far away for their country, and longing to be back home.

A Tribute

I have no words in which to sing your praise
Oh, Heroes of a thousand noble deeds.
I cannot sing as poets sang of old
Of valiant knights and acts of chivalry.
Yet would I lift my feeble voice in song
And hope some magic power could lend me
For a while the golden tones of England’s
Greatest Bard: – then would I sing a glorious
Song for you, Oh fearless Patriots.
Yet though it echoed to the very stars
Still would there be some wondrous tale untold
Some high endeavour – some sacrifice unknown.
For who will ever know all you have done,
All you have suffered, and so freely given.
For some, alas, will come to the no more
They will not wear their crown of laurels here
Or sing with us the hymn of victory.
And shall we never know the transcendent
Story of their unconquerable souls?
I cannot think that they will go unsung.
Oh, surely those are the songs of heaven?
The songs of triumph that the angels sing
Saying “Oh, no greater love hath man than this,
That he lay down his life for his friends.

Beatrice Helen Poole.

In England Now

It’s blossom time in England now
And in a village far away
Lilacs are blooming and red May
And blackbirds sing the live-long day
In England now.

It’s blossom time in England now
And in a little wood I know
Anemonies and bluebells grow
And on green banks pale cowslips glow
In England now.

It’s blossom time in England now
And yet my dearest memory
Is of a girl who waits for me
And Oh, sweetheart I long to be
With you in England now.

Beatrice Helen Poole

There are still many poems to include relating to the poems of World War One so please continue reading.

Here are two more poems, from Auntie Babs’ notebooks.  The more I read them, the more I realise that they are a wondferful commemoration of The Great War. 

The first “The Deathless Army” was written Sept. 1914 and the second “Spring 1915” was printed in the East Sussex News.

The Deathless Army

All Hail to the glorious army that’s marching silently
So silently we cannot hear their tread
With steadfast eyes, and heart and head held high
They onward march, our dear and honoured dead.

Dead, did I say, oh ye mourners, they are not dead
But live, and ever will in England’s faithful heart
O’er all the world where noble deeds are told
It shall be said “They played the Hero’s part”

Yea, Heroes and Martyrs all, for willingly they gave
Their strength and manhood for a common cause
Nobly they fought against unequal odds
Not lured by gold, nor courting man’s applause.

Now onward and upward, the vast procession goes
Till all at last shall reach the Goal of Goals
Where the great Captain reads the roll-call o’er
Of His dear army of immortal souls.

Beatrice Helen Poole, 
September 2014.

Spring 1915

Oh who will hear your songs sweet Spring?
Or heed you, as you gaily fling
Your garlands o’er the sleeping earth
To waken her to joyeous birth

We cannot see your beauty now
As o’er our dead we humbly bow.
We mourn the brave, the true, the young
We mourn the songs they’ve left unsung

The wondrous hopes unrealised
The life-force once so highly prized
We mourn alas in this dread hour
Our nation’s wealth, her manhood’s flower

Yet still with sweet insistent breath
You say, behold – there is no death!

Beatrice Helen Poole
Printed in the East Sussex News 5/5/15

My next post will be week commencing Monday 4th August – which of course is the 100th anniversary of the declaration of the First World War .  I shall try to post several more poems during that very special week.