Elinor May Jenkins (1893–1920) was a British war poet.
Early life
She was born 3 September 1893, in Bombay, India.[1] Her parents were Sir John Lewis Jenkins KCSI (1857–1912), a civil servant who became Vice President of the Indian Viceroy's Council, and Florence Mildred Trevor (1870–1956).
The Jenkins had seven children, Arthur Lewis Jenkins (1892-1917), Elinor May Jenkins (1893-1917), Evan Meredith Jenkins (1896-1985), Joyce Angharad Jenkins (1897-1983), David Llewellyn Jenkins (1899-1969), John (Jock) Vaughan Jenkins (1903-1936) and Owain Trevor Jenkins (1906-1996).
The family returned to Britain in 1901 and lived in 'The Beehive', Littleham, Exmouth, Devon, where she attended Southlands School in Exmouth.[2][3] On the death of her father the family moved to live at Sussex House, Kew Road, Surrey.[4][5][6]
Poetry
Her World War 1 poetry was published as "Poems" by Sidgwick and Jackson in 1915,[7][8][9] and reissued in 1921 with 16 later poems as "Poems: to which are now added last poems, and a portrait".
One review in the Western Daily Press noted that "Miss Jenkins writes with deep feeling concerning the departure of dear ones for the war, indeed there is throughout these verses an outpouring of sympathy and love for the men with the valour to dare and the fortitude to die for their country's sake" and "they are weighted with solemn musings and imaginings, and the richness of the language and the appropriateness of metres should win admirers of Miss Jenkins's work."[7] The Asiatic Review notes that "This little book of song introduces us to one who, we venture to predict, will be ranked high among the Singers of our land. A sad lilt pervades most of these poems: they are mournful, like the times, and whisper of family bereavement and personal sorrow."[10]
Another review in The Evening Star says "In 'The Last Evening' she depicts with tender grace and sincere emotion the feelings aroused by the departure of her soldier brother. It is the picture of a family dinner party from which the young warrior goes straight to the war."[11]
Still we sat on and kept them still at bay,
A little while, a little longer yet,
And wooed the hurrying moments to forget
What we remembered well,
—Till the hour struck—then desperately we sought
And found no further respite—only tears
We would not shed, and words we might not say.
We needs must know that now the time was come
Yet still against the strangling foe we fought,
And some of us were brave and some
Borrowed a bubble courage nigh to breaking,
And he that went, perforce went speedily
And stayed not for leave-taking.
But even in going, as he would dispel
The bitterness of incomplete good-byes,
He paused within the circle of dim light,
And turned to us a face, lit seemingly
Less by the lamp than by his shining eyes.
So, in the radiance of his mastered fate,
A moment stood our soldier by the gate
And laughed his long farewell—
Then passed into the silence and the night.The review in Country Life described 'H.S.T. Requiescat'
Nor toils in peril while at ease we sit,
Yet bides our loss in thinking of him still,—
Of sombre eyes, by sudden laughter lit,
Darkened till all the eternal stars shall wane;
And lost the incommunicable lore
Of cunning fingers ne'er to limn again
And restless hands at rest for ever more.as "a piece of exquisite writing."[12] It was written for her uncle, Lieutenant Harry Spottiswoode Trevor, son of Sir Arthur Trevor, who was killed in action aged 26.[13][14]
'Epitaph on a Child left buried abroad' was included in "Poems from India, by Members of the Forces" (1945).[15]
A little one in alien earth low laid;
Send some kind angel when Thy trumpets blow
Lest he should wake alone, and be afraid.Her poems were later included in several WW1 anthologies,[4] such as "Welsh Poets" (1917),[16] and reprinted several times in the 21st century.
She also wrote a poem for her brother before she died.[17]
Finis. Soldier and poet,
we you loved bring laurel
Bring burnished laurel + sharp scented bay
Bays to the poet, laurels to the soldier
The last vain gifts before we go our way
All your sweet songs dumb in the dust lie with you
all your great deeds, ash on war's altars lie
Now we that loved you crown you once + leave you
Poet and Soldier. Greeting and Goodbye.
War work and death
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In World War I she was employed in 1917 as a clerk in the Censor's Department in MI5,[18][19] and was still working when she died.[4]
She died on 28 February 1920 of influenza during the Spanish flu epidemic, at 38 Mount Ararat Road, Richmond, London, although her home was still listed as Sussex House.[20] She is buried in Richmond Cemetery[21] next to her brother, Arthur Lewis Jenkins (1892 - 1917), who was also a war poet,[22] together with other members of her family.[23] Her funeral service was taken by her uncle, Rev N Llewelyn Jenkins.[24] The Western Mail reported her death: "She had only been ill for a fortnight, and her death was quite unexpected. She has fallen a martyr to her country's cause, for there is no doubt that her death was hastened, if not caused, by her devotion to her war work at the Censor's Department. A host of Welsh people lament the passing of a most talented poetess."[25]
On the side of her grave is the inscription "Here lies Elinor May Jenkins, Poet, Dear and gifted daughter of Sir John Jenkins and .... Died 28 February 1920". The inscription on top of her grave, in Greek, is from Callimachus's elegy for Heraclitus of Halicarnassus which has been translated by William Johnson Cory as
"Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake;
For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.
– via Wikisource.
Books
- Poems, Sidgwick and Jackson (1915)
- Poems: To which are Now Added Last Poems, and a Portrait, Sidgwick and Jackson (1921)
- Poems, HardPress Publishing, ISBN 978-1314315554 (2013)
- Poems, Leopold Classic Library (2015)
- Poems (Classic Reprint), Forgotten Books, ISBN 978-0483792289 (2018)
References
External links
