The World War I was the first global event thoroughly documented from by sides not only in official documents and memoirs, but also in all world literature. Thousands of writers and poets of all the belligerent countries left us a priceless legacy. Newfoundland Quarterly published a great deal of poems during those dark times. This interactive presentation will introduce you to some of them. You can choose one of four paths or experience all of them. To read full poems just click on them. To read a short bio of a poet click on their name. All interactive elements are going to change in size or color if you hover over them.
This icon will bring you back to the start. This icon will bring you to the next page of the story you chose.
Ellen Carbery
Mothers
Intro
Death
War
So many words were said and written about the brave soldiers, who died in the war fighting until the last breath, but not enough about civilians lost during those dark times.
Newfoundland Quarterly remembered. On the pages of the Autumn issue of 1915 it payed tribute to a strong-willed woman; and her name was Ellen Carbery. Ellen Carbery was born in Turk’s Cove, Trinity Bay, in 1845. In 1865 she moved to St. John’s where she started to work as a salesclerk in the women’s department of Peters, Badcock, Roche and Company. She became an expert in clothing, milinery and accessories for women. And in 1887 she opened her own business.
Ellen Carbery was known not only as a businesswoman but also as a poet. At least one of her poems appeared in almost every issue from 1901 to 1915 of Newfoundland Quarterly.
Not war or old age could stop Ellen from embarking on her usual trips to England. She fell a victim to a German submarine on her way home as a passenger on the ill-fated Hesperian. She sent this poem to NLQ just before her last journey. A poem, dedicated to the Newfoundland soldiers fighting in the war that would take her life. To Our Volunteers Silent and rigid - erect, you stand - You may stand “at ease” in the Fanes afar Unbent as the vernal rod; Where feudal glory shines; With hearts untried for this awful fued But your hearts will earn for your own dear land For Empire - and, our God! And the love that beats and binds! You “presented arms,” to the Host adored - You go! May the scene of “the church at home” Rev’rent, as soldiers should - Within your memory dwell! Oh! The tender cheek and the heart untried May the fervent thought and the heartfelt pray’r Of the “Boys” we know! So good! Prevail ‘gainst shot and shell.
Autumn 1915
The following poem was written in the memory of Ellen Carbery and published in the Autumn issue of 1915.Let’s remember all those fallen: young and old, famous and unknown. Let’s remember the ones who didn’t fight with their guns but with their hearts.
A Memory Of the Late Ellen Carbery By Dan Carroll By many a storied spot, and beauteous scene By Old World shrines and legend haunted ways She roamed; but still with fonder love she hailed Her native bays
Autumn 1915
Often a soldier survives because they have someone to come back to. Parents, spouse, children - they give soldiers strength. Those people - people who wait, people, who are left - are the reason enemies are defeated. Weapons don’t win wars, people’s hearts do.
Put by your needles, for the day is done; That soldier’s scarf of thickest woollen, which This afternoon has held you, its last stitch You just have finished; and the hours have run Busily in the making. The red dun Has long has been set; and the pink sunset rich Shines no more on the harbour, black as pitch, Save where grey icepans float, or steam-tugs dun. Here in twilight lifting each palm, Let us thank God our Island Home is free From battle’s horrors; yet inaudibly For those who have laid their lives down, breathe a psalm; A solemn De Profundis let it be, Eternam requiem dona sweet and calm.me.
Twilight in Wartime
By Robert Gear MacDonald
Spring 1915
No one loves a child like a mother. No one worries more, no one mourns stronger. Mothers teach their children to love; and that love keeps them going during cold nights in far lands.
Amid life’s vain and empty show, Amidst its uproar, cant and folly, None save the sorrowing Mothers know Tear-bathed grief, sincere and holy.
MothersBy Nikolas Nekrassor
Mother is Always Saying, “Over There!” By Bona Vista
Mother, with unbowed head, Hear thou across the sea The farewell of the dead,
FarewellBy Henry Newbolt
And it’s when the times are gladdest,Fresh thoughts of early joys are fleetest born, Mother is always saying: “Over there!” Always sending pretty flower-wreaths over there! To a loves-one sleeping over there - over there!
Summer 1919
Summer 1916
Autumn 1915
Death is an integral part of our existence. It is the uninvited guest that sooner or later knocks at every door. In front of it everyone is equal. No one can avoid it: neither great nor small. It is terrifying. But those soldiers faced Death when others would run. The least we can do is to remember that.
To the Unknown Dead By John Gurdon
To all the fallen, all the nameless Host of the unremembered slain, Who noteless fought and perished fameless, Yet won the cross- the cross of pain, Greeting I bring and requiem. May light perpetual shine on them.
Autumn 1915
From the ancient times immortality and glory are intertwined in the minds of many people. Death is nothing to be afraid of. You are never truly dead as long as the memory of you lives. Fighting is an honor. Today most of us don’t believe in that anymore. War is dirty. But for the ones in the battle it is a hope.
Memorial (To Those Slain in Battle) By Edmond John in “The Artists’ Rifles Journal”
Death and Glory By Claude E. Burton
Theirs no more the strife of nation, Theirs the tale of duty done, Lighting future generations Handed down from sire to son, Keeping bright our island story, Death and Glory! Death and Glory!
Dead? Who dare seal those blood-flecked splendid lips With such a blasphemy? Though their blood drips Into the drunken earth, they are not dead, Unless the heroic gods themselves can die.
Autumn 1916
Summer 1916
There is no person on Earth who has not thought about death. Everyday people die: young and old. And yet, despite the obvious regularity and naturalness, death is scary. But dying is not scary; the scary thing is the unknown, which is behind the death. This is what people are most afraid of - what happens after. The ones who believe are not afraid anymore.
The Dead By David Morton
Life and DeathBy Rabindranath Tagore
I have kissed this world with my eyes and my limbs; I have wrapt it with my heart in numberless folds; I have flooded its days and nights with thoughts till The world and my life have grown one; and I love My life because I love the light of the sky.
Think you the dead are lonely in that place? They are companioned by the leaves and grass, By many beautiful and vanished face, By all the strange and lovely things that pass.
Autumn 1916
Christmas 1915
Ex Tenebris, Lux By Robert Gear MacDonald
The moaning of the wave is in mine ears, The howling of the wind will not surcease Though those who, swept to death, now rest in peace In earth’s deep mother-breast, have lost their fears;
Spring 1918
They died many years ago. They are strangers and ghosts for us. For some they don't seem to be real, they are old photos and black words in history textbooks. We are not touched by that war directly. But stop for a moment. Think about all those fallen. We live because they died. We live because they cared.
They died many years ago. They are strangers and ghosts for us. For some they don’t seem to be real, they are old photos and black words in history textbooks. We are not touched by that war directly. But stop for a moment. Think about all those fallen. We live because they died. We live because they cared.
Requiem By Virna Sheard
Weep for the dead; weep for the swift-slain dead, November skies; Too few the tears that, day and night are shed From women’s eyes.
Autumn 1916
War is a very scary word. It's a short word, but how much grief, suffering, fear, tears, devastation, hunger and death it brought! There were over 17 million deaths and 20 million wounded; average life expectancy in the trenches was about six weeks. The ones who start them, why would they? The ones who stand up to them, be remembered.
To The Troubler Of The World By William Watson
At last we know you, War-lord. You, that flung The gauntlet down, fling down the mask you wore, Publish your heart, and let its pent hate pour, You that had God for ever on your tongue.
Autumn 1914
War takes the best - courageous, brave, honest, worthy. It leaves empty homes and tears apart families.
Today – with puzzled, patient face, With ears a-droop, and weary feet, He marches to the sound of drums, And draws the gun along the street. Today – he draws the guns of war!
Autumn 1914
Homeland can do it all: to feed bread, to give drink from its springs, amaze with its beauty. One thing it cannot do is to defend itself. Therefore, the protection of the native land is the duty of those who eat its bread, drink its water, admiring its beauty.
War Prayer By Bliss Carman
United Front By Alfred Noyes
They challenge Truth. An Empire makes reply. One faith, one flag, one honour, and one might.
Praise for faith in freedom, our fighting father’s stay, Born of dreams and daring, bold above dismay, Prayer for cloudless vision and the valiant hand, That the right may triumph to the last demand
Spring 1916
Autumn 1915
War is not only terrors, but a time when the best in people shines as well. Despite difficulties and challenges, a beautiful art is born and good people are found.
Soldier Poets By Robert Gear MacDonald
How ye sing of your life in the trenches, the glory and pain of it all,Of the homes and the girls from you parted, the mother who prays for you still; Of the whizzing and scream of the shells, of the valor of thousands who fall Of spirits that scorn to be damped, of the strength of indomitable will.
Christmas 1917
Ships that Pass in the Night By Gertrude E. English, “One of the Sisters” in France
The scene – a soldier’s hospital, Where wounded, sick and sad, Are carried in on stretchers, And we aim to make them glad. That despite the pain and suffering They’ve been destined to endure, They can yet be happy and grateful, For the M.O’s efforts to cure.
Christmas 1917
During any war everyone wants it to end; to finally hear the victory songs and laughter; to relax shoulders and unclench fists; to celebrate.
The Golden Age, Long Sought By Fred. B. Wood
The Day of Victory and the Dead By J. H. G. Way
Cast off your mourning garments, and with praise Join hands with us to hail this day of days, Let not your smile be forced, your joys be sought, If us you love; for with our lives we bought This day for Freedom’s Cause.
Ring out ye deep toned bells Clad tidings of good cheer; The victory achieved, Peace, blessed Peace draws near!
Christmas 1918
Christmas 1918
World War I Poetry in Newfoundland Quarterly
nlqmagazine
Created on August 1, 2016
Start designing with a free template
Discover more than 1500 professional designs like these:
View
Randomizer
View
Timer
View
Find the pair
View
Hangman Game
View
Dice
View
Scratch and Win Game
View
Create a Word Search
Explore all templates
Transcript
The World War I was the first global event thoroughly documented from by sides not only in official documents and memoirs, but also in all world literature. Thousands of writers and poets of all the belligerent countries left us a priceless legacy. Newfoundland Quarterly published a great deal of poems during those dark times. This interactive presentation will introduce you to some of them. You can choose one of four paths or experience all of them. To read full poems just click on them. To read a short bio of a poet click on their name. All interactive elements are going to change in size or color if you hover over them. This icon will bring you back to the start. This icon will bring you to the next page of the story you chose.
Ellen Carbery
Mothers
Intro
Death
War
So many words were said and written about the brave soldiers, who died in the war fighting until the last breath, but not enough about civilians lost during those dark times. Newfoundland Quarterly remembered. On the pages of the Autumn issue of 1915 it payed tribute to a strong-willed woman; and her name was Ellen Carbery. Ellen Carbery was born in Turk’s Cove, Trinity Bay, in 1845. In 1865 she moved to St. John’s where she started to work as a salesclerk in the women’s department of Peters, Badcock, Roche and Company. She became an expert in clothing, milinery and accessories for women. And in 1887 she opened her own business. Ellen Carbery was known not only as a businesswoman but also as a poet. At least one of her poems appeared in almost every issue from 1901 to 1915 of Newfoundland Quarterly.
Not war or old age could stop Ellen from embarking on her usual trips to England. She fell a victim to a German submarine on her way home as a passenger on the ill-fated Hesperian. She sent this poem to NLQ just before her last journey. A poem, dedicated to the Newfoundland soldiers fighting in the war that would take her life. To Our Volunteers Silent and rigid - erect, you stand - You may stand “at ease” in the Fanes afar Unbent as the vernal rod; Where feudal glory shines; With hearts untried for this awful fued But your hearts will earn for your own dear land For Empire - and, our God! And the love that beats and binds! You “presented arms,” to the Host adored - You go! May the scene of “the church at home” Rev’rent, as soldiers should - Within your memory dwell! Oh! The tender cheek and the heart untried May the fervent thought and the heartfelt pray’r Of the “Boys” we know! So good! Prevail ‘gainst shot and shell.
Autumn 1915
The following poem was written in the memory of Ellen Carbery and published in the Autumn issue of 1915.Let’s remember all those fallen: young and old, famous and unknown. Let’s remember the ones who didn’t fight with their guns but with their hearts.
A Memory Of the Late Ellen Carbery By Dan Carroll By many a storied spot, and beauteous scene By Old World shrines and legend haunted ways She roamed; but still with fonder love she hailed Her native bays
Autumn 1915
Often a soldier survives because they have someone to come back to. Parents, spouse, children - they give soldiers strength. Those people - people who wait, people, who are left - are the reason enemies are defeated. Weapons don’t win wars, people’s hearts do.
Put by your needles, for the day is done; That soldier’s scarf of thickest woollen, which This afternoon has held you, its last stitch You just have finished; and the hours have run Busily in the making. The red dun Has long has been set; and the pink sunset rich Shines no more on the harbour, black as pitch, Save where grey icepans float, or steam-tugs dun. Here in twilight lifting each palm, Let us thank God our Island Home is free From battle’s horrors; yet inaudibly For those who have laid their lives down, breathe a psalm; A solemn De Profundis let it be, Eternam requiem dona sweet and calm.me.
Twilight in Wartime
By Robert Gear MacDonald
Spring 1915
No one loves a child like a mother. No one worries more, no one mourns stronger. Mothers teach their children to love; and that love keeps them going during cold nights in far lands.
Amid life’s vain and empty show, Amidst its uproar, cant and folly, None save the sorrowing Mothers know Tear-bathed grief, sincere and holy.
MothersBy Nikolas Nekrassor
Mother is Always Saying, “Over There!” By Bona Vista
Mother, with unbowed head, Hear thou across the sea The farewell of the dead,
FarewellBy Henry Newbolt
And it’s when the times are gladdest,Fresh thoughts of early joys are fleetest born, Mother is always saying: “Over there!” Always sending pretty flower-wreaths over there! To a loves-one sleeping over there - over there!
Summer 1919
Summer 1916
Autumn 1915
Death is an integral part of our existence. It is the uninvited guest that sooner or later knocks at every door. In front of it everyone is equal. No one can avoid it: neither great nor small. It is terrifying. But those soldiers faced Death when others would run. The least we can do is to remember that.
To the Unknown Dead By John Gurdon
To all the fallen, all the nameless Host of the unremembered slain, Who noteless fought and perished fameless, Yet won the cross- the cross of pain, Greeting I bring and requiem. May light perpetual shine on them.
Autumn 1915
From the ancient times immortality and glory are intertwined in the minds of many people. Death is nothing to be afraid of. You are never truly dead as long as the memory of you lives. Fighting is an honor. Today most of us don’t believe in that anymore. War is dirty. But for the ones in the battle it is a hope.
Memorial (To Those Slain in Battle) By Edmond John in “The Artists’ Rifles Journal”
Death and Glory By Claude E. Burton
Theirs no more the strife of nation, Theirs the tale of duty done, Lighting future generations Handed down from sire to son, Keeping bright our island story, Death and Glory! Death and Glory!
Dead? Who dare seal those blood-flecked splendid lips With such a blasphemy? Though their blood drips Into the drunken earth, they are not dead, Unless the heroic gods themselves can die.
Autumn 1916
Summer 1916
There is no person on Earth who has not thought about death. Everyday people die: young and old. And yet, despite the obvious regularity and naturalness, death is scary. But dying is not scary; the scary thing is the unknown, which is behind the death. This is what people are most afraid of - what happens after. The ones who believe are not afraid anymore.
The Dead By David Morton
Life and DeathBy Rabindranath Tagore
I have kissed this world with my eyes and my limbs; I have wrapt it with my heart in numberless folds; I have flooded its days and nights with thoughts till The world and my life have grown one; and I love My life because I love the light of the sky.
Think you the dead are lonely in that place? They are companioned by the leaves and grass, By many beautiful and vanished face, By all the strange and lovely things that pass.
Autumn 1916
Christmas 1915
Ex Tenebris, Lux By Robert Gear MacDonald
The moaning of the wave is in mine ears, The howling of the wind will not surcease Though those who, swept to death, now rest in peace In earth’s deep mother-breast, have lost their fears;
Spring 1918
They died many years ago. They are strangers and ghosts for us. For some they don't seem to be real, they are old photos and black words in history textbooks. We are not touched by that war directly. But stop for a moment. Think about all those fallen. We live because they died. We live because they cared.
They died many years ago. They are strangers and ghosts for us. For some they don’t seem to be real, they are old photos and black words in history textbooks. We are not touched by that war directly. But stop for a moment. Think about all those fallen. We live because they died. We live because they cared.
Requiem By Virna Sheard
Weep for the dead; weep for the swift-slain dead, November skies; Too few the tears that, day and night are shed From women’s eyes.
Autumn 1916
War is a very scary word. It's a short word, but how much grief, suffering, fear, tears, devastation, hunger and death it brought! There were over 17 million deaths and 20 million wounded; average life expectancy in the trenches was about six weeks. The ones who start them, why would they? The ones who stand up to them, be remembered.
To The Troubler Of The World By William Watson
At last we know you, War-lord. You, that flung The gauntlet down, fling down the mask you wore, Publish your heart, and let its pent hate pour, You that had God for ever on your tongue.
Autumn 1914
War takes the best - courageous, brave, honest, worthy. It leaves empty homes and tears apart families.
Today – with puzzled, patient face, With ears a-droop, and weary feet, He marches to the sound of drums, And draws the gun along the street. Today – he draws the guns of war!
Autumn 1914
Homeland can do it all: to feed bread, to give drink from its springs, amaze with its beauty. One thing it cannot do is to defend itself. Therefore, the protection of the native land is the duty of those who eat its bread, drink its water, admiring its beauty.
War Prayer By Bliss Carman
United Front By Alfred Noyes
They challenge Truth. An Empire makes reply. One faith, one flag, one honour, and one might.
Praise for faith in freedom, our fighting father’s stay, Born of dreams and daring, bold above dismay, Prayer for cloudless vision and the valiant hand, That the right may triumph to the last demand
Spring 1916
Autumn 1915
War is not only terrors, but a time when the best in people shines as well. Despite difficulties and challenges, a beautiful art is born and good people are found.
Soldier Poets By Robert Gear MacDonald
How ye sing of your life in the trenches, the glory and pain of it all,Of the homes and the girls from you parted, the mother who prays for you still; Of the whizzing and scream of the shells, of the valor of thousands who fall Of spirits that scorn to be damped, of the strength of indomitable will.
Christmas 1917
Ships that Pass in the Night By Gertrude E. English, “One of the Sisters” in France
The scene – a soldier’s hospital, Where wounded, sick and sad, Are carried in on stretchers, And we aim to make them glad. That despite the pain and suffering They’ve been destined to endure, They can yet be happy and grateful, For the M.O’s efforts to cure.
Christmas 1917
During any war everyone wants it to end; to finally hear the victory songs and laughter; to relax shoulders and unclench fists; to celebrate.
The Golden Age, Long Sought By Fred. B. Wood
The Day of Victory and the Dead By J. H. G. Way
Cast off your mourning garments, and with praise Join hands with us to hail this day of days, Let not your smile be forced, your joys be sought, If us you love; for with our lives we bought This day for Freedom’s Cause.
Ring out ye deep toned bells Clad tidings of good cheer; The victory achieved, Peace, blessed Peace draws near!
Christmas 1918
Christmas 1918