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Robert Nichols was born on January 21, 1893, in England, and his life and poetry were deeply affected by the world around him. He was the son of a successful lawyer, and his early education at Rugby School and then at Balliol College, Oxford, set the stage for his future as a poet. Nichols was drawn to literature from a young age, influenced by the works of classic poets and writers of his time, and he would later become known for his straightforward yet evocative verse.
The outbreak of World War I had a profound impact on Nichols. He enlisted in the British Army in 1914, and his experiences in the war shaped much of his later work. He was commissioned as a second lieutenant and served with the Royal Berkshire Regiment. Nichols was injured during the war, an experience that led him to reflect deeply on the horrors of conflict. His time in the trenches exposed him to the brutal realities of war, and the trauma he witnessed became a key influence on the poetry he wrote afterward. Much of Nichols’ work deals with the themes of war, its impact on soldiers, and the loss it caused, both on the battlefield and in the personal lives of those affected.
Nichols’ military service was a central part of his identity. He wrote about the war in a way that few others did, combining a soldier’s perspective with that of a poet deeply attuned to the emotional toll of violence and death. His poetry, particularly the collection A War Poet’s Notebook (1917), is marked by a candid, unflinching look at the harshness of war. Nichols was not only a witness to the horrors of battle but also a participant in them, and his writings often blend personal experience with a more universal meditation on the human condition during times of extreme conflict.
His poetry is aligned with the literary movement known as the war poets, a group that included figures like Wilfred Owen, Siegfried Sassoon, and Rupert Brooke. These poets used their work to respond to the experiences and aftermath of the war, and Nichols’ poems are often grouped in that tradition. His use of vivid imagery and his unvarnished portrayal of wartime suffering distinguish him as a poet of great emotional depth and honesty.
After the war, Nichols continued to write and was involved in literary and cultural circles. His work spanned beyond the war years, and he explored different genres, including plays and novels. Despite his success in various fields, it was his poetry that ultimately earned him the most recognition. His postwar collections, like The Image of the World (1923) and The Poet’s Quest (1926), reflect his ongoing engagement with the themes of war and peace, as well as his search for meaning in a world forever altered by conflict.
In his later years, Nichols became a somewhat controversial figure. While his early poems about war were widely praised for their sincerity and insight, his later work was sometimes seen as less relevant or less impactful. Nevertheless, his legacy as one of the key war poets of World War I endures. Nichols is often remembered not just for his literary contributions but for the personal experiences he shared through his work—experiences that provided a voice to many soldiers of his generation.
Nichols passed away on November 8, 1944, at the age of 51. His contributions to the poetry of war and his reflections on the human cost of conflict continue to resonate. His poems, though perhaps overshadowed by some of his contemporaries, are important in their own right, offering a perspective on war that remains poignant and moving. Nichols’ legacy is that of a poet who was not just an observer of war, but a soldier who lived through it, and whose words continue to echo with the pain and loss of those who have experienced its horrors.
You may learn more at the Poetry Foundation and Wikipedia.
Deliverance
Robert Nichols
Out of the Night! out of the Night I come:
Free at last: the whole world is my home:
I have lost self: I look not on myself again,
The Full Heart
Robert Nichols
Alone on the shore in the pause of the night-time
I stand and I hear the long wind blow light;
I view the constellations quietly, quietly burning;
Shut of Night
Robert Nichols
The sea darkens. Waves roar and rush.
The wind rises. The last birds haste.
One star over eve’s bitter flush
Annihilated
Robert Nichols
Upon the sweltering sea’s enormous round,
Asmoke, adazzle, brown and brown and gold,
A hushed light falls….
Thanksgiving
Robert Nichols
Amazement fills my heart to-night,
Amaze and awful fears;
I am a ship that sees no light,
Alone_
Robert Nichols
The grey wind and the grey sea
Tossing under the long grey sky….
My heart is lonelier than the wind;
At the Ebb
Robert Nichols
Alone upon the monotonous ocean’s verge
I take my stand, and view with heavy eye
The grey wave rise. I hear its sullen surge,
By the Wood
Robert Nichols
How still the day is, and the air how bright!
A thrush sings and is silent in the wood;
The hillside sleeps dizzy with heat and light;
Plaint of Friendship by Death Broken
Robert Nichols
(R. P., Loos, 1915)
God, if Thou livest, Thine eye on me bend,
And stay my grief and bring my pain to end:
Boy
Robert Nichols
In a far field, away from England, lies
A Boy I friended with a care like love;
All day the wide earth aches, the cold wind cries,
The Burial in Flanders
Robert Nichols
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
The Last Morning
Robert Nichols
Come now, O Death,
While I am proud,
While joy and awe are breath,
Eve of Assault: Infantry going down to Trenches
Robert Nichols
Downward slopes the wild red sun.
We lie around a waiting gun;
Soon we shall load and fire and load.
Battery moving up to a New Position from Rest Camp: Dawn
Robert Nichols
Not a sign of life we rouse
In any square close-shuttered house
That flanks the road we amble down
Out of Trenches: The Barn, Twilight
Robert Nichols
In the raftered barn we lie,
Sprawl, scrawl postcards, laugh and speak—
Just mere men a trifle weary,
Behind the Lines: Night, France
Robert Nichols
At the cross-roads I halt
And stand stock-still….
The linked and flickering constellations climb
Night Bombardment
Robert Nichols
Softly in the silence the evening rain descends….
The soft wind lifts the rain-mist, flurries it, and spends
Its grief in mournful sighs, drifting from field to field,
Noon
Robert Nichols
It is midday: the deep trench glares….
A buzz and blaze of flies….
The hot wind puffs the giddy airs….
Nearer
Robert Nichols
Nearer and ever nearer….
My body, tired but tense,
Hovers ‘twixt vague pleasure
In the Grass: Halt by Roadside
Robert Nichols
In my tired, helpless body
I feel my sunk heart ache;
But suddenly, loudly
Farewell To Place of Comfort
Robert Nichols
For the last time, maybe, upon the knoll
I stand. The eve is golden, languid, sad….
Day like a tragic actor plays his rôle
The Reckoning
Robert Nichols
The whole world burns, and with it burns my flesh.
Arise, thou spirit spent by sterile tears;
Thine eyes were ardent once, thy looks were fresh,
The Past
Robert Nichols
How to escape the bondage of the past?
I fly thee, yet my spirit finds no calms
Save when she deems her rocked within those arms
To——
Robert Nichols
Asleep within the deadest hour of night
And, turning with the earth, I was aware
How suddenly the eastern curve was bright,
COMRADES: AN EPISODE
Robert Nichols
COMRADES: AN EPISODE
Before, before he was aware
The ‘Verey’ light had risen … on the air
The Philosopher’s Oration: A Faun’s Holiday
Robert Nichols
Meanwhile, though nations in distress
Cower at a comet’s loveliness
Shaken across the midnight sky;
The Approach
Robert Nichols
1. In the Grass: Halt by the Wayside
In my tired, helpless body
The Day’s March
Robert Nichols
The battery grides and jingles,
Mile succeeds to mile;
Shaking the noonday sunshine
The Assault
Robert Nichols
The beating of the guns grows louder.
“Not long, boys, now.”
My heart burns whiter, fearfuller, prouder;
At the Wars
Robert Nichols
Now that I am ta’en away
And may not see another day
What is it to my eye appears?
The Last Salute
Robert Nichols
In a far field, away from England, lies
A boy I friended with a care like love;
All day the wide earth aches, the keen wind cries,
Fulfilment
Robert Nichols
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
Battle
Robert Nichols
1. Noon
It is midday; the deep trench glares….
Sonnet: Our Dead
Robert Nichols
They have not gone from us. O no! they are
The inmost essence of each thing that is
Perfect for us; they flame in every star;
Invocation
Robert Nichols
Courage born of Fire and Steel,
Thee I invoke, thee I desire
Who constant holdst the hearts that reel