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John William Streets, better known as Will Streets, was born on March 24, 1886, in Whitwell, Derbyshire, England. Streets grew up in a working-class mining family and followed his father into the coal pits, starting work as a miner at a young age. Despite his humble beginnings, Streets was an avid reader and self-taught poet, developing a passion for literature that set him apart from his peers. His work is often associated with the War Poets of World War I, though he was less widely known during his lifetime.
When the First World War broke out, Streets enlisted in the Sheffield City Battalion (12th Battalion, York and Lancaster Regiment) in 1914. Like many others, he joined with a sense of duty and optimism, which was soon replaced by the grim realities of trench warfare. The war had a profound impact on Streets, shaping both his poetry and his worldview. His work, which was deeply influenced by Romantic poets such as Wordsworth and Shelley, took on a somber tone as he grappled with themes of loss, sacrifice, and the devastation of modern conflict.
Streets was deployed to the Western Front, where he fought in some of the war’s most harrowing battles. His military career was tragically short. On July 1, 1916, the first day of the Battle of the Somme, Streets went over the top with his battalion. He was wounded during the assault but continued to fight until he went missing in action. His body was not recovered until ten months later, and he was buried at Euston Road Cemetery in Colincamps, France.
Before his death, Streets wrote a collection of poetry that provides an intimate glimpse into the life of a soldier during World War I. His poems reflect his dual identity as a miner and a poet, grounded in the working-class struggles of his upbringing while reaching for higher philosophical and emotional insights. His collection The Undying Splendour was published posthumously in 1917, gaining attention for its stark yet lyrical portrayal of the war.
Streets’ legacy lies in his ability to articulate the experiences of ordinary soldiers with both sensitivity and depth. His poems capture the camaraderie, fear, and longing for home that defined life in the trenches. While his life was cut short at 31, his work endures as a poignant reminder of the human cost of war and the enduring power of art to give voice to those who might otherwise be forgotten. Today, Streets is remembered as one of the many voices silenced by the Great War, yet his poetry ensures that his story, and the stories of countless others, live on.
The following was written by his commanding officer and is at the beginning of his poshumously published work “The Undying Splendour,” serving as a tribute to the young man.
Furness Hospital for Officers,
Harrogate,
7th April, 1917.
Dear Sirs,
I understand you are publishing a book of the
verses of Sergt. J. W. Streets .
If his verses are as good as his reputation as a
soldier, you may rest assured that the book will be
a great success.
Streets was a member of my Company since the
commencement of the War, and his reputation as
a thoroughly reliable N.C.O. , gained in England
and in Egypt, was enhanced when we were trans-
ferred to France.
He was conspicuous amongst a battalion of
brave men who formed the left wing battalion of
the great Allied advance on the 1st July. He
fell along with the remainder of his comrades, and
died as he had lived-a MAN.
Need I say more ?
It was a privilege to command such men.
Yours faithfully,
A. PLACKETT,
Major.
You may learn more at the War Poets.org and Wikipedia.
To W.H.W.
John William Streets
You called to me from o’er the restless tide :
Within the deepening shades of Death’s confines,
-Like winds grown free among the forest pines
Now and After.
John William Streets
NOW
” Mother of England ! why do you weep ? “
‘ My heart’s with the fate of my own dearest sons
To a Dead Poet.
John William Streets
I, too, have loved with you our mother Earth :
Listen’d at pensive eve the lyric thrush
Shake out his ecstasy to lovely birth
The Hedge.
John William Streets
Like memories born in a dream my Fancy around thee plays,
Re-embodies the life, the beauty of olden days
That were thine ere the scourge of war-aflame in the sweet blue sky-
A Lark Above the Trenches.
John William Streets
Hushed is the shriek of hurtling shells hark !
Somewhere within that bit of soft blue sky-
Grand in his loneliness, his ecstasy,
The Song of the Crusaders.
John William Streets
Freemen of England ! born upon an isle
Steel-girt, inviolate, bred beneath a sky
That looketh down with a benignant smile
Impression.
John William Streets
A breath of wind ; a fragrant memory ;
Soft music and the magic of a song ;
A night beneath whose moonlight pale and strong
A Nocturne.
John William Streets
Night broodeth o’er the solitude serene
As some glad mother o’er her first-born child,
Pouring her gladness on the shadowy scene
To…
John William Streets
Two shining eyes that never lose their light,
Haunting with dreams like stars within the
night ;
My Hope.
John William Streets
You came into the shadow of my grief
( A lovely vision radiating light) ;
Your passing was as soulful and as brief
The Miracle of the Cross.
John William Streets
Showers of shrapnel, scream of deadly shells ;
And broken lie the belfry’s prayerful bells
Amid the silent, ruined cloisters, where
Serenity.
John William Streets
Peace can be found in strife : artillery
Are belching forth this sweet, entrancing morn
Their projectiles of death : yet as in scorn,
Love of Life.
John William Streets
Reach out thy hands, thy spirit’s hands to me
And pluck the Youth, the magic from my heart-
Magic of dreams whose sensibility
Shelley in the Trenches.
John William Streets
Impressions are like winds ; you feel their cool
Swift kiss upon the brow, yet know not where
They sprang to birth : so like a pool
April Evening : France, 1916.
John William Streets
O sweet blue eve that seems so loath to die,
Trailing the sunset glory into night,
Within the soft, cool strangeness of thy light,
Comrades.
John William Streets
Those whom I’ve known, admired, ardently friended
Lie silent there wrapp’d in a soldier’s shroud ;
Death broke their dreams, their aspirations ended,
Remembrance.
John William Streets
Sweet are the wind’s soft kisses on the brow ;
Sweet is the singing of the mated bird ;
Sweet is the scent of blossom on the bough ;
The Wayside Cross.
John William Streets
Beneath a hawthorn bush, dying, he lay
Upon an orchard slope, a gentle hill ;
The silvery moonlight thro’ the night did play
A Soldiers’ Cemetery.
John William Streets
Behind that long and lonely trenched line
To which men come and go, where brave men die,
There is a yet unmarked and unknown shrine,
The Dead: A Requiem.
John William Streets
Let music vast, triumphal, fill the world’s great nave,
Voicing the peerless theme of noble youth
Who rose to Life’s sublimest greatness at the grave
Gallipoli.
John William Streets
Upon the margin of a rugged shore
There is a spot now barren, desolate,
A place of graves, sodden with human gore
The Night- Watch.
John William Streets
A lonely moorland stretching far
Beneath the stars ‘ eternal light ;
A sentry standing there alone
A Soldier’s Funeral.
John William Streets
No splendid show of solemn funeral rite,
No stricken mourners following his bier,
No peal of organ reaching thro ‘ his night,
An English Soldier.
John William Streets
He died for love of race : because the blood
Of Northern freeman swell’d his veins : arose
True to tradition that like mountain stood
Matthew Copse.
John William Streets
Once in thy secret close, now almost bare,
Peace yielded up her bountiful largess ;
The dawn dropp’d sunshine thro ‘ they leafy
Sunset : Hurdcott Camp.
John William Streets
Hushed is the wind upon the southern hill :
It died e’en as the sunset in the west
Swoon’d Cleopatra-like ; upon its breast
At Dawn in France.
John William Streets
Night on the plains, and the stars unfold
The cycle of night in splendour old ;
The winds are hushed, on the fire-swept hill
Sonnets of Twilight & Youth. – IV. TRIUMPH.
John William Streets
Thus dreaming in the shadows of the pines,
Feeling the presage of the unborn years,
I know that Youth will brave the dark confines
Sonnets of Twilight & Youth. – III. CHALLENGE.
John William Streets
Go tell yon shadows stalking ‘ neath the trees
With silent-footed terror, go tell Death
He cannot with Life’s vast uncertainties
Sonnets of Twilight & Youth. – II. SHADOW.
John William Streets
O why should Youth, whose symbol is the lark
That mounts with new-born dreams unto the
sky,
Sonnets of Twilight & Youth. – I. VISION.
John William Streets
Charmed with the ceaseless music of the brook-
Babbling with hope and with Youth’s deathless
song ;
Hymn to Life : Hurdcott Camp.
John William Streets
I hear thy voice in the lonely pines
When the winds arise in their unknown lair ;
In the rush of waves in the caves ‘ confines ;
The Undying Splendour – XIII. LAST VISION
John William Streets
The day for you is done : yet o’er the verge,
Beyond the brim where your swift sun has set,
Where Day and Night in one grand bridal
The Undying Splendour – XII. THEIR IMMORTALITY
John William Streets
Who says that ye are dead, ye Albion sons,
Youth strong in flesh, Olympian in brain,
Who sleep there in France where boom’d the
The Undying Splendour – XI. MOURNING.
John William Streets
How aspen whisperings by the meadow stream ;
Long agonies of night-winds in the forest pines ;
Wail of some love- bird who has lost his dream ;
The Undying Splendour – X. THE SACRIFICE
John William Streets
O Thou who honour’d Earth so long ago,
O Kingly Christ, the holy Son of God,
Who bore in raven shades the nations’ woe
The Undying Splendour – IX. YOUTH’S CONSECRATION.
John William Streets
Lovers of Life ! Dreamers with lifted eyes !
O Liberty, at thy command we challenge
Death !
The Undying Splendour – VIII. THE CALL.
John William Streets
Like solo flute above an orchestra
Freedom was heard calling her brave sons
To save a nation ravish’d by the Huns,
The Undying Splendour – VII. BELGIUM.
John William Streets
Across the fields of peaceful Belgium came
Those lawless hosts, rampant, flamed with lust ;
They piled with ruin, burned with wanton
The Undying Splendour -VI. THE PORTENT.
John William Streets
From Scotland down to Devon England lay
Immune from war ; her poets of peace did sing.
The labourer sow’d the harvest in the spring
The Undying Splendour – V. THE WORKMAN.
John William Streets
Adventure Youth will have. Behold the days
When o’er the seas discoverers roamed to gain
The gleam, the treasure of an unknown main.
The Undying Splendour – IV. THE LOVERS.
John William Streets
When Twilight veil’d with blue the sunset gold
And cast o’er Earth its web of mystery,
Two lovers lost in Life’s infinity
The Undying Splendour – III. THE GENIUS.
John William Streets
Lucid, within the night he saw a star :
Lighting the darkness of his soul, supreme,
Piercing its shadows deep it came. There, far,
The Undying Splendour – II. TRADITION.
John William Streets
Like olden Rome, like Carthage ancient queen—
World-conquering, the pride of seven seas-
Thou, England, stood amidst thy victories
The Undying Splendour – I. ENGLAND.
John William Streets
There lies an isle, a splendour of the sea
Haunting as Babylon, illustrious as Rome :
A race of Saxon freemen there have home
April Evening, 1916
John William Streets
O sweet blue eve that seems so loath to die,
Trailing the sunset glory into night,
Within the soft, cool strangeness of thy light,