A final Armistice Day poem, ‘Remembrance’, from an unidentified author: J. K. Bell’s Rhymes of an Idle Man (London: Arthur H. Stockwell, 1930) definitely reads like a collection by a working-class man, but there is no author information given. We haven’t traced Bell yet, though we may come across him elsewhere.
Remembrance
I have no one set day,
For ‘memories’ of the dead,
If so, what would they say?
Men I knew who bled.
At times when I feel lonely,
And life seems so sad,
It is then I think only,
Of pals, when all were glad.
Then life it was worth living,
The world a pleasant place,
Oh! I never could be forgiven
Forgetting a dead comrade’s face.
We dreamed and laughed and planned,
Of good times to be,
The war-lords sweet things banned,
Pals killed – ah! lonely me!
At times I seem to see,
And talk to ‘absent’ men,
They smile and say to me,
‘No regrets – but ne’er again!’
So I pass on the pleadings,
Received from these dead men,
‘We claim that through our bleeding,
Peace shall ever reign.’
