Throughout history, poetry has offered soldiers and civilians a means to process trauma, preserve memory, honour the fallen, hold on to hope and find solidarity in shared struggle.
Whether scribbled in the trenches, published in newspapers or recited in secret, wartime poetry captures the intense emotional reality of individual lived experience.
Here at the Museum of the Mercian Regiment, our archive holds a large collection of wartime poetry, which depicts conflict from the 19th Century until present day.
Here are a few examples of War Poetry written by Sherwood Foresters over the years . . .
The Crimean War
The Crimean War (1853-1856) marked one of the first modern conflicts to be widely reported to the public, and poetry played a key role in shaping how the war was understood at home. As news from the front lines spread through newspapers, poets responded with verses that captured both the heroism and the horror of the battlefield. As well as expressing patriotic fervour, poets used their work to mourn the fallen and commemorate the bravery of soldiers.
In particular, Florence Nightingale’s tireless nursing work across military hospitals made her a national symbol of hope, and she consequently became the subject of numerous poems. Poems such as these made clear that heroism in wartime wasn’t limited to the battlefield. Here is an example written by Private James Reynard (3628), 95th (Derbyshire) Regiment of Foot in approximately 1954.
'Miss Nightingale' by Private James Reynard (3628)
On a dark stormy night and the Crimea’s dread
Shore,
There was bloodshed and strife, on the morning before,
The dead and dying lay bleeding around,
Some crying for help, seemed not to be found,
Now God in his mercy, he pities their cries,
The soldier so cheerful in the morning did rise,
Singing forward, my lads, let your hearts never fail,
You are cheered by the presence of Miss Nightingale.
Her heart, it means good, no bounty she takes,
She would lay down her life for a poor soldiers sake,
She prays for the dying, gives peace to the brave,
She knows that a soldier has a soul for her to save,
The wounded, they love her, it can be seen,
She is the soldier’s preserver, they call her their Queen,
May God give her strength, let her heart never fail.
One of Heavens best gifts was sweet Florence Nightingale.
Private James Reynard enlisted into the 95th (Derbyshire) Regiment of Foot which later became the 2nd Battalion The Sherwood Foresters. He took part in the battle for Sebastopol during the Crimean War 1854-55. The war was caused by the Russian Tsar having designs on Constantinople which would have resulted in the almost entire loss of Turkey as an independent state. Great Britain and France agreed to support Turkey and declared war on Russia on the 28th of March 1853. The first troops would depart in February 1854, and a month later, the 95th would follow.
He had been at home for less than a year when he found himself sailing for the Cape of Good Hope for foreign service but on arrival they were ordered to sail at once for Bombay, India where they became embroiled in the Indian Rebellion of 1857-58.
He was awarded the Crimean War Medal with bar ‘Sebastopol’ and Indian Mutiny Medal with clasp ‘Central India’.
WWI: Poetry from the Trenches
The poetry of the First World War is still recognised today as one of Britain’s most powerful literary legacies. During this time, poetry became a powerful means of expression for soldiers grappling with the horrors of trench warfare.
Rather than centralising the heroics of war, poets including Wilfred Owen, Siegfried Sassoon, and Isaac Rosenberg provided a stark and unflinching depiction of life and death on the front lines. Their poems did not shy away from the brutality of industrialised warfare, and they captured the grim realities of battle. In doing so, these poets challenged how the war was perceived back at home and gave voice to a generation scarred by conflict.
'Ypres Trenches' written by 2nd Lieutenant Ewart Ferney Gervaise Stevenson in December 1915.
Some speak the joys of nicotine
While lolling by the fire,
There contemplating life serene
Observe the smoke aspire,
But we whom man the muddy trench
This bitter winter weather,
When cold winds howl and rain storms drench
Both friend and foe together,
We feel the need of some solace
To charm a dismal scene,
To lift us from this awful place
And give the mind serene.
Then pipe bowls glow, blue smoke hangs low,
Fond home gleams through the haze.
All, held dear creep very near,
We feel the firelight blaze,
Then memory’s knack of harking back
Recalls past peaceful scenes.
Forgotten quite our sorry plight
Enraptured in our dreams.
Here! Have a pipe of mine.
Ewart was born and lived at Beeston, Nottingham. He enlisted into the 10th Battalion and was promoted to Corporal. The 10th Battalion landed at Boulogne, France on the 15th July 1915, and after a railway journey to St Omer, they made a series of long marches ending up at Reningelst. It was here that they first went into the Front Line when they joined 139 Brigade near Hooge. Over the next three years, the Battalion saw action all over the Ypres Salient. Ewart served with ‘C’ Coy and was wounded at Ypres in 1916, being sent to hospital at Chester.
The Battalion next moved to the Fricourt area on the 2nd July 1916, and to Foncquevillers in September. April 1917, saw the Battalion at Arras and in June they were in the Lens area. Ewart received a gallantry card for his actions taken on the 10th-12th October 1917 during the attack on Gravel Farm near Hazebrouck.
On the 26th February 1919, he was promoted to 2nd Lieutenant. He sadly died of natural causes in November 1962. He was awarded the 1914-15 Star, British War Medal, Victory Medal, and 39-45 Defence Medal.
'Death' written by Lieutenant Colonel Charles Hudson
Why did you pass me by, why?
We’ve often met before, you and I
Familiar on the field of war.
It’s true we’ve often met before
When bullets whistling, crack,
And shells following their track,
Whining their way, burst,
Messengers that thirst
For Blood. While pitter, pat, pat, pat,
Debris comes tumbling down, and masonry
Crashes in doom and the boom, boom, boom,
Of friendly canon fire, and musketry
And automatic guns whose rat-tat, rat-tat,
Perform the cruel symphony of war,
Exciting me, confusing all my wit.
While wounded retch and curse and groan and spit
And groan, and groan and groan in choral misery.
Why did you pass me by?
We’ve met in hospitals before
In peaceful times, in times of war.
The last a tented hostelry
Where Army Sisters softly tread
Twixt row and row and row of stretchered bed
And fear in all its devilry
Repeats itself as patients shout
Delirious. When dead are carried out
By orderlies, deep in the shadowed night,
In rubbered shoes, midst men who in their dreams
Fight on, seeing disaster in the beams
A gentle moon has cast in silvered light
Why did you pass me by, Ah why?
Lieutenant Colonel Charles Hudson was born in Derby on the 29th May 1892. He landed in France on the 15th August 1915 and served with the 11th Battalion. The 11th Sherwood Foresters arrived in the Somme area in March 1916 and formed part of the attack at Ovillers on 1st July 1916. In November 1916, they moved to Poperinghe and the Ypres area.
This poem entitled ‘Death’, is believed to have been written by Charles whilst reflecting on his time during the Somme.
Charles later became Captain of the Sherwood Foresters on the 13th May 1917 and Acting Lieutenant-Colonel of the 11th Battalion on the 23rd November 1917. On the 13th November 1917, Charles arrived with the battalion in Italy and saw much action at the Asiago Plateau, San Sisto Ridge and Cavaletto. On the 15th June 1918, he was severely wounded by a hand grenade at San Sisto Ridge, and was evacuated the same day.
On the 9th July 1918, he was awarded the Victoria Cross, his write up reads:
“For most conspicuous bravery and devotion to duty when his battalion was holding the right front sector during an attack on the British front. The shelling had been very heavy on the right, the trench destroyed, and considerable casualties had occurred, and all the officers on the spot had been killed or wounded. This enabled the enemy to penetrate our front line. The enemy pushed their advance as far as the support line which was the key to our right flank. The situation demanded immediate action.
Lieutenant Colonel Hudson recognising its gravity at once collected various headquarter details, such as orderlies, servants, runners, etc., and together with some Allies, personally led them up the hill. Driving the enemy down the hill towards our front line, he again led a party of about five up the trench, where there were about 200 enemy, in order to attack them from the flank. He then with two men got out of the trench and rushed the position, shouting to the enemy to surrender, some of whom did. He was then severely wounded by a bomb which exploded on his foot. Although in great pain, he gave directions for the counterattack to be continued and this was done successfully, about 100 prisoners and six machine guns being taken.
Without doubt the high courage and determination displayed by Lieutenant Colonel Hudson saved a serious situation and had it not been for his quick determination in organising the counter-attack a large number of the enemy would have dribbled through, and a counter-attack on a larger scale would have been necessary to restore the situation.” London Gazette, 11 July 1918.
As well as the Victoria Cross, Charles was mentioned in Dispatches six times and Brevet of Major. He was awarded the D.S.O. and Bar, M.C., French Croix de Guerre, Italian Silver Medal for Military Valour, British War Medal, Victory Medal, 1914-15 Star, and C.B. He retired as Brigadier and sadly died in April 1959.
WWII: Poetry in Captivity
During the Second World War, p/oetry became more than a form of creative expression for Prisoners of War, it became a powerful form of psychological resistance. Poetry offered a means of preserving identity, maintaining hope, processing loneliness and asserting one’s humanity in the face of dehumanising conditions. Often written in notebooks, on scraps of paper or memorised and shared orally, these poems captured the emotional toll of imprisonment and a deep longing for home.
‘Red Cross Parcel Day’ written by Private Lawrence Wheatley (4978755)
‘Twas in an old stalag,
Where my friend would sit and sign,
Waiting for the hour,
When parcel day comes nigh.
But as he’d sit and wonder,
Of the days he had done stag,
No thought of any parcel,
Each week he would ever have.
His only thought was work and pay,
And hearing someone say, ‘Get weaving’,
But now, today is parcel day,
And he was a parcel given,
So now he’s filled with rapture,
And carried away to heaven,
To think that all those lovely things,
Should come just through his capture.
You’ll see he gets some better meals,
And feels proud we have Red Cross,
For now he’s making an appeal,
For all to help them in the cause.
So if you see the crimson cross,
Just give a think to all the cost,
To make that lad of yours.
A happy P. O. W.
Private Lawrence Wheatley was born on the 26th November 1918 and enlisted into the 2/5th Battalion on the 15th November 1939. He served with the Battalion in France and was evacuated through Dunkirk.
He was taken prisoner at the crossing of the Volturno, Italy on the 13th October 1943 by the Germans. He was given the prisoner number 262755 and was held in various camps, the last known being at Stalag 4F at Hartmansdorf Chemnitz. It was not until 1945, that Lawrence was repatriated and was later discharged on the 7th February 1946. He sadly died of natural causes in December 1999.
The following two poems were found in the papers of Private Lawrence Wheatley. As they were left unsigned, we cannot know if they were written by Lawrence himself or his fellow soldiers.
Dearest
Dearest one in all the world,
I think of you today.
But when I come to tell my thoughts, I know not what to say,
For words are clumsy things at best,
And hearts are slow to yield,
To their deep and tender secrets,
In their silent depths concealed.
But when I call you dearest,
That word seems to convey,
The story of my love for you,
And though you’re far away,
It grows stronger as time passes,
Ever constant, ever true.
Dearest and most precious one, my heart belongs to you.
Faithful
I’ve tried a hundred million times,
To write a bunch of funny rhymes,
To bring you joy instead of tears,
In case these months grow into years.
But all my efforts went for nought,
My heart excludes all comic thought.
The ache in it that your absence brings,
Keeps tugging wildly at the strings,
And keeps me lonesome all the while,
Until your letters reconcile.
So looking forward to the times,
Our happiness will be sublime.
I send my love to let you know,
That I am yours wher’er I go,
And hope each melancholy day,
Will quickly dawn and slip away,
Till we are back as once before,
Just you and I and nothing more, except our love and all our dreams,
Which had to wait for grimmer schemes.
'A little Thrush' written by Lance Corporal Fred Jeffrey (4979727)
When I was a boy I caught a thrush,
And placed it in a cage
Away from it’s home in a hawthorn bush,
And its mates, in a purple cage.
The little captive sadly sang
Of it’s freedom that was spent,
I did not know till later years,
How much this freedom meant.
But now as I captive stay,
Far away from freedom’s bush,
I think again of childhood days,
And the freedom I took from that thrush.
Lance Corporal Fred Jeffrey lived at Bulwell, Nottingham and enlisted on the 17th January 1940. He served with the 2/5th Battalion and landed in France on the 27th April 1940 and was evacuated through Dunkirk in May 1940.
In November 1942, the battalion went with 1st Army to Tunisia, where Frederick was taken prisoner on the 2nd March 1943. He was given the prisoner number 154175 and was held in Stalag 17A at Kaisersteinbruch bei Bruck (Leitha). He was held prisoner until 1944 and discharged on the 6th February 1946.
Want to learn more about poetry in wartime?
Follow these links:
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/collections/144683/war-poetry
https://www.iwm.org.uk/history/9-poets-of-the-first-world-war
https://www.cwgc.org/our-work/blog/remembering-the-poets-of-world-war-two/
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References:
London Gazette, 11 July 1918.
Soldier, Poet, Rebel: The Extraordinary Life of Charles Hudson VC by Miles Hudson. 2007, The History Press.