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Gilbert Waterhouse was born in 1883 in England. He was a poet and soldier whose brief life and work were shaped by World War I. Before the war, he worked as an architect, but when the war began, he joined the British Army. His poetry captures the realities of war, moving beyond patriotic ideals to the brutal, everyday experiences of soldiers. His influences included the war poets of his time, and his work fits within the literary movement of war poetry that sought to express the truth of combat without glorification.
As a soldier, Waterhouse served as a second lieutenant in the Essex Regiment. Like many young men of his generation, he entered the war with a sense of duty, but his experiences on the front lines quickly changed his perspective. His poetry reflects the disillusionment and horror that came with trench warfare. His work is direct and unsentimental, often portraying the grim fate of soldiers with stark imagery and sharp irony.
Waterhouse was killed in action on July 1, 1916, during the Battle of the Somme. He was 34 years old. His death, like that of so many other war poets, cut short a promising literary career. His poetry remains as a record of the war’s brutality, offering a soldier’s perspective that refuses to romanticize the experience. His work has not received the same attention as that of Wilfred Owen or Siegfried Sassoon, but it carries the same emotional weight and honesty. His legacy is that of a poet who used his words to confront the reality of war, leaving behind a small but powerful body of work that continues to be read as part of the larger story of World War I poetry.
You may learn more at War Poets.org and Wikipedia.
Patriotism
Gilbert Waterhouse
PATRIOTISM has spoken ! Long and loud
Across the troubled frontiers of the world ,
Where war hung brooding like a thunder – cloud ,
To England
Gilbert Waterhouse
How long till I return to thee ,
Oh hills and valleys of the South ?
Oh , woods and fields and purling streams
In Memoriam
Gilbert Waterhouse
Edith Cavell , October , 1915 ´
Not in vain , oh , great and valiant heart ,
Thou’st played thy part !
There’s Death in the Air !
Gilbert Waterhouse
There’s Death in the air!
Grim Death !
Will ye dare
Rail-Head
Gilbert Waterhouse
Someville is the Railhead for bully beef and tea,
Matches and candles, and (good for you and me)
Cocoa and coffee and biscuits by the tin,
The Casualty Clearing Station
Gilbert Waterhouse
A bowl of daffodils,
A crimson-quilted bed,
Sheets and pillows white as snow—
Minnewerfers
Gilbert Waterhouse
Where I sit and tune my song,
In the valley all day long,
Ding-a-dong and ding-a-dong,
Bivouacs
Gilbert Waterhouse
In Somecourt Wood, in Somecourt Wood,
The nightingales sang all night,
The stars were tangled in the trees
A Bird’s Song
Gilbert Waterhouse
I ‘ KNOW it , I know it ,
Tho ‘ seldom avow it ,
That I am a poet .