W.N. Hodgson

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William Noel Hodgson, born on December 2, 1893, in Durham, England, was a British poet and soldier. He became widely known for his poignant poems written during World War I, especially those that reflected the horrors of battle and the sacrifices made by soldiers. Hodgson was educated at Durham School and then at Trinity College, Oxford, where he studied Classics. He joined the British Army in 1914, shortly after the outbreak of World War I, serving as a second lieutenant with the 9th Battalion of the Devonshire Regiment.

Hodgson’s military career was marked by bravery and sacrifice. He saw action on the Western Front and was involved in several key battles, including the Battle of the Somme. His experiences in the trenches deeply influenced his writing, giving his poems a sense of immediacy and raw emotion. Hodgson’s poetry reflected the grim realities of war, often focusing on themes of courage, death, and the futility of conflict. His most famous poem, “Before Action,” expresses the thoughts of a soldier facing the inevitable dangers of battle, contemplating the meaning of sacrifice and the uncertainty of survival. The poem remains one of the most memorable works of the Great War, capturing the fear and resolve of soldiers during their final moments before going into combat.

Sadly, Hodgson’s life and career were cut short when he was killed in action on July 1, 1916, during the first day of the Battle of the Somme. He was just 22 years old. His death, like many others during the war, was a tragic loss, but his poetry continues to resonate with readers today for its powerful exploration of the human cost of war.

Though Hodgson’s time as a poet was brief, his contributions to the literary world remain significant. His work is often categorized as part of the war poetry movement, which sought to give voice to the experiences of soldiers during World War I. Influenced by the harsh realities of warfare, Hodgson’s poems often reveal the deep emotional struggles faced by those who fought. His writing was also informed by classical influences, drawing on his education and love of literature.

Hodgson’s legacy is largely defined by his poetry, which continues to be studied and admired for its sincerity, emotional depth, and stark portrayal of war. While he did not live long enough to witness the full impact of his work, his poems have become an enduring part of the canon of First World War literature. They serve as a reminder of the sacrifices made by those who served and the toll that war takes on both soldiers and civilians. Though his life was short, William Noel Hodgson’s contributions to poetry and his depiction of the Great War have ensured that he is remembered, not just for his sacrifice, but for his enduring literary legacy.

You may learn more at the War Poets Foundation and Wikipedia.

The New Spirit

W.N. Hodgson
When England of the quiet heart

Flung back the covenant of shame,
A dignity of high resolve

Reverie

W.N. Hodgson
At home they see on Skiddaw

His royal purple lie,
And autumn up in Newlands

Ave, Mater – atque Vale

W.N. Hodgson
The deathless mother, grey and battle-scarred,

Lies in the sanctuary of stately trees,
Where the deep Northern night is saffron starred

Back to Rest

W.N. Hodgson
A leaping wind from England,

The skies without a stain,
Clean cut against the morning

Before Action_

W.N. Hodgson
By all the glories of the day,

And the cool evening’s benison,
By that last sunset touch that lay,

England to her Sons:

W.N. Hodgson
Sons of mine, I hear you thrilling

To the trumpet call of war,
Gird ye then, I give you freely,

The Call

W.N. Hodgson
Ah! We have dwelt in Arcady long time

With sun and youth eternal round our ways
And in the magic of that golden clime

A Field

W.N. Hodgson
Here sorrow has no beauty, death no greatness.

Where the dumb fields from Heaven to Heaven run
In a dull poverty of desolateness

The Tale of Four Men

W.N. Hodgson
This is the tale of Four Stout Men

Who mounted their stark steeds there and then
And rode to Heilly o’er moor & fen,

Before Action

Leon Gellert
We always had to do our work at night.

I wondered why we had to be so sly.
I wondered why we couldn’t have our fight

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