Popular Verse

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"GONE WEST"
WITH THE GLORY OF
THE SETTING SUN

LANCE CORPORAL JAMES MAXWELL

Dread sound of guns, and hurrying feet,
The dying groans of the sore distressed;
And then - the peace that is deep and sweet,
And another soul "Gone West".

"Gone west" - with the glory of the setting sun,
To an endless day of a well-earned rest;
For another hero's part is done,
And another soul "Gone West".

The sky is aflame with its burnished gold,
Red is the land with the blood of our best,
Whose bodies are lying so strangely cold,
Whose spirits have all "Gone West".

The earth is darkened with clouds of gloom,
Its new made graves, and its laws transgressed;
But see! - how angels from the tomb
Bear all the souls "Gone West".

Gone West by Winifred A Cook
First published in Bibby's Annual c. 1917

The use of the phrase 'Gone West' to mean to die came into use during the First World War. And whereas today we might use it in a fairly colloquial fashion, in those days it had a certain majesty. So much so that some local newspapers listed the names of their of casualties under the heading, 'Gone West'.
Although many column inches were dedicated to puzzling over the origins of the phrase, and many bizarre explanations put forward, the association of death with the setting sun in the western sky is an ancient one. Sophocles used the analogy in Oedipus, writing of the 'western shore' where 'soul after soul is known to take her flight'. The dying sun and the splendour of the sunset provided a vivid analogy for the blaze of glory to be associated with those who died for their country.
The phrase provoked many execrable pieces of verse, which were liberally quoted in newspaper In Memoriam columns, but Winifred A Cook's seems to have become the most popular. A writer of children's books and occasional verse, very little is known about her.
James Maxwell, the son of John and Agnes Maxwell, enlisted in Dumfries on 14 September 1914 and embarked for France on 8 July 1915. He served in the 6th Battalion Cameron Highlanders and was killed in a German air raid near Monchy-le-Preux on 21 February 1918.

HOW COULD I STAY

DRIVER TALBOT PRESTON ROBERTSON

Talbot Robertson Preston had the signed permission of both his parents when he joined up at the age of 18 and 3 months on 26 August 1916. He needed it as without this permissio, he would not have been able to go abroad until he was 19. This means that he was still only 18 and 7 months when he embarked for Britain on 23 December 1916. But as his headstone inscription asks - How could I stay? This wasn't just a simple statement but the last line of a very patriotic piece of verse written by James Drummond Burns who, like Talbot Robertson, was a former pupil of Scotch College in Melbourne.

The bugles of England were blowing o'er the sea,
As they had called a thousand years, calling now to me;
They woke me from dreaming in the dawning of the day,
The bugles of England - and how could I stay?

The banners of England, unfurled across the sea,
Floating out upon the wind, were beckoning to me;
Storm-rent and battle torn, smoke stained and grey,
The banners of England - and how could I stay?

O England, I heard the cry of those that died for thee,
Sounding like an organ-voice across the winter sea;
They lived and died for England, and gladly went their way -
England, O England - how could I stay?

Robertson arrived in Britain on 17 February 1917 and on 22 August went to France. He was wounded barely a month later, on 29 September. Evacuated to a Casualty Clearing Station, he was operated on the next day for 'severe gun shot wound of left thigh'. On 1 October he was admitted to No. 26 General Hospital at Etaples where he died six days later.
James Drummond Burns, the author of the verse, had been killed in Gallipoli in September 1915. Although Burns' words are quoted relatively frequently one way or another on headstone inscriptions, Burns' own headstone quotes Henry Newbolt's Clifton College:

Qui ante diem periit
Sed miles sed pro patria.

Who died before his time but as a soldier and for his country.

AND THE SENTRY'S WORD
RINGS CLEAR AND LOUD
GOOD NIGHT, ALL'S WELL

PRIVATE FREDERICK JOBLING

Sunderland Daily Echo and Shipping Gazette
Saturday 24 November 1917
Mr William Jobling, 7, Mulgrove Street, has been officially informed of the death of his son, Pte. Frederick Jobling, D.L.I., which occurred on October 8th. An officer of the regiment writes that Pte. Jobling, who met his death by an enemy shell exploding when on his way to a rest camp, was always bright and cheerful, highly respected, and devoted to his duties. The deceased joined the Army in March, 1915, prior to which he was a wireman at Messrs Craven's Ropery. He had also been wounded on a previous occasion. Another son, Pte. Joseph Jobling, West Yorks Regiment, was killed in action on October 30th, 1916, while a third son, Thomas Jobling, late of the D.L.I., has been discharged from the Army after having his left leg amputated through wounds received in action.

There were five Jobling brothers, Frederick, Thomas and Joseph were the three youngest. Joseph, who was not killed in action but died of wounds in a hospital in Etaples, does not have an inscription. Frederick's inscription was signed for by his mother. It's a quote from a patriotic poem, 'Sergeant, Call the Roll', written by J. Smedley Norton during the South African War. Both poem and author are very obscure, so obscure that the Internet has hardly heard of either of them. However, that wasn't the case at the time. The poem was written in the style of a music hall monologue and permission was needed from the publisher, the Black and White Budget, before it could be recited in public. The Budget reported in 1904 that more than 600 such requests had been received.
M. Van Wyk Smith, in his book 'Poetry of the Anglo-Boer War 1899-1902' (Clarendon Press Oxford 1978) expresses the opinion that the poem has "no poetic merit, but [that] as a skilful pastiche of sentiment, patriotism, and melodramatic heartache as appreciated by a Victorian music hall audience, it stands as a supreme example of its kind".
A sergeant is given the task of calling the roll after the battle:

Show us the price of victory,
Just tell us what it cost;
Say what the Motherland has gained,
And also what she's lost.

The sergeant's son is among the dead:

Though his heart is well-nigh breaking,
Tears in his eyes are seen,
He ends his task of sorrow
Like a soldier of the Queen.

Frederick's inscription comes from the last verse:

They have answered God's field order
Given Death the last salute,
The guns are now unlimbered,
And the cannon's roar is mute,
The curfew note has sounded
Its sad and mournful knell,
The sentry's word rings clear and loud,
"Good night! All's well!"

LOST TOO SOON
LOVED SO WELL
TOO DEAR FOR DEATH
MY SON FAREWELL

PRIVATE JAMES DAVIDSON

This is a peculiarly powerful inscription for all that the language is simple and the sentiments conventional. Private James Davidson's mother, Bridget, adapted it from something she may have seen written on other headstones or read in religious tracts. No author is ever mentioned but the whole verse reads:

O lost too soon - O loved too well!
Too dear for death - farewell! farewell!
One soothing solace yet is given,
Thou 'rt lost to earth, to live in heaven!
Fond faith forbids us to deplore,
For thou 'rt not dead, but gone before.

Davidson came from Sunderland. In 1911 his father worked in the coal mines as a shifter, someone who repaired the horse routes - rolley-ways - and other passages in the mines, keeping them free from obstruction. His sixteen-year-old brother was a 'driver', someone who led the horses pulling the coal trucks along the rolley-ways. James, aged 12, was still at school. No doubt a career in the mines lay before him.
Davidson may however have moved away. He served originally with the 29th Battalion London Regiment Royal Fusiliers but was posted to the 1st/4th. He died on 2 June 1918. There is no individual information about his death but the brigade diary reports heavy enemy bombardment of the Fusiliers' line that day.

THE BUGLES OF ENGLAND WERE CALLING
& HOW COULD I STAY

Unidentified

Serjeant O'Regan - army service number 17144 - came from Glasgow and died from the effects of gas in a base hospital in Etaples. I have been unable to find out anything else about him, possibly because, as the War Graves Commission's records state, he was 'also known as John McKay'. It's certainly as Sgt John McKay - army service number 17144 - that he appears in the Clan Mackay Society War Memorial volume.
His wife, Isabella O'Regan, chose his inscription. It's based on a poem written in 1914 by a young Australian, James Drummond Burns, who died on Gallipoli in September 1915. The poem was extremely popular in Australia and is generally considered to have summarised of how many Australians felt in the early months of the war - and throughout it too. From Mrs O'Regan's choice of inscription it must have had an impact in Britain as well.

The bugles of England were blowing o'er the sea,
As they had called a thousand years, calling now to me;
They woke me from dreaming in the dawning of the day,
The bugles of England - and how could I stay?

The banners of England, unfurled across the sea,
Floating out upon the wind, were beckoning to me;
Storm-rent and battle torn, smoke stained and grey,
The banners of England - and how could I stay?

O England, I heard the cry of those that died for thee,
Sounding like an organ-voice across the winter sea;
They lived and died for England, and gladly went their way -
England, O England - how could I stay?

I SHALL SAY
AS I LOOK BACK EARTHWARD
WHATEVER IS - IS BEST

SECOND LIEUTENANT HUGH WILLIAMS

Hugh Williams' older brother, Richard, chose his inscription. Their parents were both dead. Richard still lived in Wolverhampton, where he and his siblings had been born. Hugh had gone to South Africa, from where he enlisted in the 4th South African Regiment. He fought at Delville Wood as a lance corporal during July to September 1916, but by the time he died of wounds in a base hospital at Etaples, he had been commissioned.
I haven't found anything to say where and how Williams was wounded but on 12 April 1917 the South Africans took part in a costly attack at Fampoux for which the regimental history (page 124) was forced to conclude that the enemy must have known they were coming. Added to this was the fact that the men were tired having worked hard for three days under heavy shell fire, that they had had no sleep for four nights, three of which had been spent lying in the snow without blankets. The South African fought hard for little gain, the 1st, 2nd and 4th regiments suffering 720 casualties between 12 April and their relief on the 15th
Hugh Williams' inscription quotes the last lines of a poem by the popular American poet Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919), Whatever is - is best:

I know there are no errors
In the great Eternal plan,
And all things work together
For the final good of man.
And I know as my soul speeds onward,
In its grand Eternal quest,
I shall say as I look back earthward,
Whatever is - is best.

IT IS WELL WITH THE LAD
MOTHER

PRIVATE FRANK SAXBY

I have come across this inscription twice and in the other example the words "the lad" are in inverted commas. The inscription carries an echo of Elisha's question to the Shunammite woman:

"Is it well with the child? And she answered, It is well."
[2 Kings 4:26].

The Shunammite woman's son is dead but Elisha brings him back to life so I don't think this is the direct source of the inscription. However, it is quite possibly the indirect source.
There is a poem by the American author Mrs Schuyler Van Rensselaer (1851-1934) called 'It is Well With the Child'. First published in the magazine 'The Atlantic' it was reprinted in 1918 in 'Patriotic Pieces from the Great War'. The poem begins:

The word has come - On the field of battle dead.
Sorrow is mine but there is no more dread.
I am his mother. See, I do not say,
'I was'; he is, not was, my son. Today
He rests, is safe, is well; he is at ease
From pain, cold, thirst, and fever of disease,

Although "Sorrow is mine and streams of lonely tears", now that her son is dead the mother has nothing more to fear for him:

At eventide I may lay down my head,
Not wondering upon what dreadful bed
Perchance - nay, all but certainly - he lies;
And with the morn I may in turn arise,
Glad of the light, of sleep, of food, now he
Is where sweet waters and green meadows be
And golden apples. How it was he died
I know not, but my heart is satisfied:
Never again of all my days shall one
Bring anguish for the anguish of my son.

In its turn, Mrs Schuyler Van Rensselaer's poem quite possibly owed something to Christina Rossetti's 'Is It Well With the Child?'

Safe where I cannot die yet,
Safe where I hope to lie too,
Safe from the fume and the fret;
You, and you,
Whom I never forget.
Safe from the frost and snow,
Safe from the storm and the sun,
Safe where the seeds wait to grow
One by one,
And to come back in blow.

Except Mrs Saxby knew she could not look forward to being buried with her son.
In 1911, the fifteen-year-old Frank Saxby was a solicitor's clerk living at home in Wentbridge near Pontefract, Yorkshire, where his father was a coachman at one of the big houses. He served with the 15th Battalion West Yorkshire Regiment and was killed on 20 August 1916 either in the heavy German bombardment of the Regiment's front line trenches or in the ensuing raid that evening. However, for his mother at least "There was no more dread".

SAY NOT GOODNIGHT
BUT IN SOME FAIRER CLIME
BID ME GOOD-MORN

LANCE CORPORAL EDWARD BODEL

Edward Bodel's inscription quotes 'Life', a poem written by Anna Laetitia Barbauld (1743-1825), or rather it nearly quotes it. I imagine there was no poetry book to hand and this is how the family remembered the lines. Barbauld was a very popular poet in the early years of the 19th century. In 'Life' she lightly questions what exactly life is:

Life! I know not what thou art,
But know that thou and I must part;
And when, or how we met,
I own to me's a secret yet.

Bodel's inscription comes from the final verse:

Life! we've been long together
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;
'Tis hard to part when friends are dear;
Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear;
Then steal away, give little warning,
Choose thine own time;
Say not Good night, but in some brighter clime
Bid me Good morning.

Edward Bodel was born in Shankill, Co. Antrim and lived in Belfast. He joined the army in 1905 when he was 19 and in 1911 was serving with the 6th Dragoons in India.

WHATEVER IS - IS BEST

SERJEANT HENRY HARGREAVES

Serjeant Hargreaves died of wounds in a Casualty Clearing Station at Lijssenthoek. His inscription is both the title and the last line of each of the three verses of a poem by the hugely popular American poet Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919). This is the final verse of the poem:
I know there are no errors
In the great Eternal plan,
And all things work together
For the final good of man.
And I know when my soul speeds onward
In its grand Eternal quest,
I shall say as I look back earthward
Whatever is - is best.

Wilcox's philosophy echoes that of Alexander Pope (1688-1744) whose 'An Essay on Man' states:
All Nature is but Art, unknown to thee;
All chance, direction, which thou canst not see
All discord, harmony not understood,
All partial evil, universal good:
And, spite of pride, in erring reason's spite,
One truth is clear, whatever is, is right.

A WHITE ROSE

CORPORAL WILLIAM JOHN KNIGHT MM

Can Corporal Knight really only have been 18 when he died; 18 seems far too young to have been a corporal. As for his inscription, that could imply that he was older too. It was chosen by Mrs Knight. A white rose is a symbol of innocence and purity, so it could be an appropriate inscription for a mother to have chosen for her eighteen-year-old son. But 'A White Rose' is also the title of a popular poem, written by John Boyle O'Reilly, and it's extremely unlikely that the Mrs Knight who chose this as an inscription was William Knight's mother.
The red rose whispers of passion,
And the white rose breathes of love;
O the red rose is a falcon,
And the white rose is a dove.
But I send you a cream-white rosebud
With a flush on its petal tips;
For the love that is purest and sweetest
Has a kiss of desire on the lips.
I think that Mrs Knight was William Knight's wife since, however old he was, he was old enough to have fathered a son, and it was this son's grandson who owned Corporal Knight's Military Medal in 2012.