A Sonnet for Robert Whiteside
This is a poem of a letter that my grandmother, who was a nurse in World War 1, may have written to Robert Whiteside. Lt. R.P. Whiteside is known to have been killed at Arras in April 1917 four months after the photograph below was taken…my grandmother was 21 years old. In 2023, we paid our respects to Robert at the memorial to the missing at Arras.
Listen to: A Sonnet to Robert Whiteside
At the news that you are posted missing.
The words are like a bayonet to my breast,
That deeply wounds but does not let me die.
Men must endure the winds of war like leaves,
And some will fall before their season's due,
Have you, my spring bud, emerged to leaf,
Yet fallen as the golden leaves of autumn lie?
I shall keep faith with every passing day,
And each beat of this loving woman's heart.
By this hearth shall I keep a soldier's watch,
And tend the fires of love for your return.
Oh, I shall wait for you and shall not tire,
For you are all this soldier's love desires.
With all my love,
Your Ivy.
My Dearest Robert,
I have few words for such is my despair,At the news that you are posted missing.
The words are like a bayonet to my breast,
That deeply wounds but does not let me die.
Men must endure the winds of war like leaves,
And some will fall before their season's due,
Have you, my spring bud, emerged to leaf,
Yet fallen as the golden leaves of autumn lie?
I shall keep faith with every passing day,
And each beat of this loving woman's heart.
By this hearth shall I keep a soldier's watch,
And tend the fires of love for your return.
Oh, I shall wait for you and shall not tire,
For you are all this soldier's love desires.
With all my love,
Your Ivy.
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