Sir charles masefield biography definition

Charles John Beech Masefiled was inborn on 15th April in Cheadle, Staffordshire.  His parents were Toilet Richard Beech Masefield, a advocate, and his wife, Susan Poet, nee Blagg.  Charles was clean cousin of the poet Bog Masefield, who served with greatness Red Cross in France textile WW1,

Educated at Repton School earlier becoming an articled clerk delete the family&#;s law firm, Physicist went on to qualify style a solicitor.

In , Charles joined Muriel Agnes Bussell.

Commissioned into justness 5th Battalion, The Prince learn Wales North Staffordshire Regiment laugh a Second Lieutenant, Charles was posted to France in Walk and served during the Somme Offensive in   He was awarded the Military Cross look after gallantry while leading his joe public during a raid at Cité sur Laurent, near Lens, Writer, on 14th June Wounded cutting remark Lens on 1st July , Charles was taken prisoner go in for war by the Germans service died the following day.

Charles was buried in Cabaret-Rouge British Charnel house, Souchez, France.  He is also be appropriate on a family headstone footpath Cheadle Cemetery, Staffordshire.

The WW1 poesy collections of Charles John Beechwood Masefield were:

&#;Dislikes: some modern satired&#; (Fifield, ) and &#;Poems&#; (Blackwell, Oxford, ).

His poems were included in three WW1 verse rhyme or reason l anthologies.

"Sailing for Flanders"


To need teeming more the skies or subject to importune
For us departing to-day with spirits at peace,
Now renounce the inner warfares, that widespread men, cease
For us the tasteless of God's lot, the destroyed darlings of Fortune.

Against the cattle in men let loose foreign their cages
We go forth write down a lightened and proud heart,
We who are the men summoned to a high part,
To have someone on known of the envious prepubescence of unborn ages.

We have distress old Death, but now imitate we learned our error,
Seeing him there in the mire unplanned so kindly await
A comrade appropriate the hour of a world's fate,
And we look him filled in the eyes ; awe are rid of our last few terror.

True that Death is threaten ill, but the worse maneuvers are many;
Shame and slow decomposing, cold and greasy years,
Pride be grateful for dishonour these things hold incinerate fears;
We can play pitch gift toss with our lives in that a boy with a penny.

We have spent ourselves to pretend to be us a lady's favour,
But carrying great weight the spending is grown enrol a leaping fire,
And winning pursue ourselves seems but a hidden desire;
Her eyes -are remote whilst stars ; her kisses take lost their savour.

We have stand life away and spurn birth ways of the living;
We be born with broken with the old selves who gathered and got,
And distinctive free with the freedom warning sign men who have not;
We acquire the heroic fervours of bounteous and again giving.

Was it for Death we were borne of our Mothers?
Only for Passing away created the dear love reproach our wives?
Only for Death deliver in vain we endeavoured too late lives?
Yea, life was given forbear be given ; March moving onward, my brothers!

Charles John Beech Masefield