What’s interesting about going through my great great Agnes Selina Fox’e scrapbox is trying to work out who the people in it might be related or what the connection might me. I found this photograph of Harry Llanover Davies. He’s mentioned on the Roll of Honour Site, having died of wounds near Ypres 25th October 1914:
Lieutenant, “F” Battery, Royal Horse Artillery, Died of wounds near Ypres 25th October 1914. Aged 29. Grave lost. Son of Theophilus Harris & Mary Ellen Davies. Husband of Mrs Barbara Childeroy Davies of Woodmancte Place, near Henfield. Commemorated on Menin Gate Memorial, Ypres, Belgium.
From what I can make out from his entry in the scrapbook he’s submitted extracts from Tennyson and Browning poems. It’s signed Harry Ll. Davies and their a picture she’s coloured of Harry in uniform from happier times.
Man am I grown, a man’s work must I do.
follow the Christ, the King,
Live pure, speak true, right wrong,
follow the King. (Tennyson)
Harry in happier times:
One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake. (Browning)
The following epitaph is attached to the back of his photograph:
Horses he loved and laughter, the sun.
A song, wide spaces and the open air;
The trust of all dumb living things he won,
And never knew the luck too good to share.
His were the simple heart and open hand,
And honest faults he never strove to hide;
Problems of life he could not understand,
But as a man would wish to die he died.
Now, though he will not ride with us again,
His merry spirit seems our comrade yet.
Freed from the power of loneliness and pain, Forbidding us to mourn–or to forget.