Robert Nichols

(1893 - 1944 / England)

Comments about Robert Nichols

  • Unknown (12/19/2017 12:10:00 PM)

    Good reply. I use this website quite often.

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  • Unknown (12/19/2017 12:08:00 PM)

    This Website is amazing. Thanks

  • Geoff Skellon Geoff Skellon (7/12/2017 3:45:00 AM)

    Tom, a very belated reply because I have only just seen your comment. I suggest that the movement of his hand under the light was seen by a sniper. He fell with a body wound and when he put his hand to the wound it felt wet and so he knew it was still bleeding.

  • Geoff Skellon Geoff Skellon (7/12/2017 3:39:00 AM)

    It is incorrect to say that Rupert Brooke died in action. He died of blood poisoning following an insect bite.

  • Tom Mummery (2/4/2006 7:41:00 AM)

    In Comrades: An Episode, how is Gates injured - is he shot in the hand or elsewhere? If it is the hand, would that be serious enough for a soldier to die? I think I am missing something, I would appreciate any information about the poem or where to look for research.

  • Tom Mummery (2/4/2006 7:40:00 AM)

    In Comrades: An Episode, what injury does Gates sustain? Is he shot in the hand or elsewhere? I can't work it out from the poem, but would a hand wound kill a soldier? Perhaps I'm missing comething, I would appreciate any advice on where to find more information about this poem.

Best Poem of Robert Nichols

Fulfilment

Was there love once? I have forgotten her.
Was there grief once? Grief yet is mine.
Other loves I have, men rough, but men who stir
More grief, more joy, than love of thee and thine.

Faces cheerful, full of whimsical mirth,
Lined by the wind, burned by the sun;
Bodies enraptured by the abounding earth,
As whose children we are brethern: one.

And any moment may descend hot death
To shatter limbs! Pulp, tear, blast
Belovèd soldiers who love rough life and breath
Not less for dying faithful to the last.

O the fading eyes, the grimed face ...

Read the full of Fulfilment

Address To The Sunset

Exquisite stillness! What serenities
Of earth and air! How bright atop the wall
The stonecrop’s fire and beyond the precipice
How huge, how hushed the primrose evenfall!
How softly, too, the white crane voyages
Yon honeyed height of warmth and silence,
whence
He can look down on islet, lake and shore
And crowding woods and voiceless promontories

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