Elinor Jenkins

[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).

[10] 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.

"[13] 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.

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 as "a piece of exquisite writing.

[17] A little one in alien earth low laid; Send some kind angel when Thy trumpets blow Her poems were later included in several WW1 anthologies,[4] such as "Welsh Poets" (1917),[18] and reprinted several times in the 21st century.