The church lies broken near the fallen spire,
For here, among these old and human things,
Death sweeps along the street with feet of fire,
And goes upon his way with moaning wings.
On pavements by the kneeling herdsmen worn
The drifting fleeces of the shells are rolled;
Above the Saints a village Christ forlorn,
Wounded again, looks down upon His fold.
And silence follows fast: no evening peace,
But leaden stillness, when the thunder wanes,
Haunting the slender branches of the trees,
And settling low upon the listless plains.
"Beb," as we called him, married Lady Cynthia Charteris, a lovely
niece of Lady de Vesci and daughter of another beloved and
interesting friend of mine, the present Countess of Wemyss.
Our third son, Arthur Asquith, was one of the great soldiers of
the war. He married Betty, the daughter of my greatest friend,
Lady Manners, a woman who has never failed me in affection and
loyalty.
Arthur Asquith joined the Royal Naval Division on its formation in
September, 1914, and was attached at first to the "Anson," and
during the greater part of his service to the "Hood" Battalion. In
the early days of October, 1914, he took part in the operations at
Antwerp and, after further training at home in the camp at
Blandford, went in February, 1915, with his battalion to the
Dardanelles, where they formed part of the Second Naval Brigade.
He was in all the fighting on the Gallipoli peninsula and was
wounded, but returned to duty and was one of the last to embark on
the final evacuation of Helles, in January, 1916.
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