Today and tomorrow churches in the British Isles are marking the centenary of the outbreak of the First World War.
The First World War, sometimes
known as the Great War or the war to end war, was one of the
greatest tragedies of the twentieth century. The rapid unfolding of events and
the tangle of alliances would draw all the great world powers into the conflict.
Hostilities began on July 28, 1914. Britain entered the war
on August 4, 1914.
4 years, 3 months, 1 week and 16 million casualties later
hostilities would cease. The world would never be the same again.
To honor the memory of all who died in the
carnage of the First World War,
military, and civilian, on both sides of the conflict, I am posting three poems.
They are the poems of Ivar Campbell,
a young Scotsman who survived the horrors of trench warfare on the Western
Front only to die from his wounds in Mesopotamia.
Campbell was an affable young man, liked by everybody. His
dream was to open a bookshop. He never realized that dream.
My late mother owned a copy of his collected poems, Poems by Ivar Campbell, with Memoir by Guy Ridley. They are taken from that
work.
Song.
PEACE, God's own peace,
This it is I bring you;
The quiet song of sleep,
Dear tired heart, I sing you.
Dream, softly dream,
Till solemn death shall find you,
With coronals of roses
Tenderly to bind you.
Peace past understanding,
Dear tired heart, I bring you;
The quiet song of evening
Softly I sing you.
Song.
RIPPLING the face of the stream
The willows bend lowly.
As in a June night's dream
The waters pass slowly.
When I am dead, the willow,
The shy willow weeping,
Shall shadow my earth pillow
And guard my last sleeping.
Song.
WHEN I am dead
The leaves shall shed their foliage
Softly upon my head
Age after age.
Until God calls,
In silence shall my soul brood.
Softly each leaf falls
In the still wood.
Death knows not grief —
He will come, my soul, to thee
Softly as any leaf
Falls from the tree.
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