JUNE 1918


David Childs

At last, the rapid German advance on the Wester Front was held on the Aisne and Marne, leaving the Germans with a vulnerable salient, some thirty-five miles deep and twenty miles wide. The Americans had gone in to action for the first time in May but the month-long battle of Belleau Wood, which ended successfully in July, was their first major fight. Elsewhere, British forces were being landed in Russia, unsure about to whom they should liaise or even, in some cases, which side they were meant to be supporting.


Although written in 1915, Charlotte Mew's Poem, June, has an annual poignancy so does her life. She wrote few, but they were remarkable, poems, so much so that she was granted a Civil List pension on the recommendation of Thomas Hardy, John Masefield and Walter de la Mare. But she committed suicide in 1928, aged fifty-nine.

Who thinks of June's first rose today?
Only some child, perhaps, with shining eyes and
rough bright hair will reach it down.
In a green sunny lane, to us almost as far away
As are the fearless stars from these veiled lamps of town.
What's little June to a great broken world with eyes gone dim
From too much looking on the face of grief, the face of dread?
Or what's the broken world to June and him
Of the small eager hand, the shining eyes, the rough bright head?

©  Tisbury History Society
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