Samuel Edward FROGGATT

Male 1892 - 1916  (24 years)


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  • Name Samuel Edward FROGGATT 
    Born 1892  St Pancras, London, England Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Gender Male 
    Occupation Carpet Cleaner 
    Residence 1911  59,tyrwitt road,st johns,london. Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Died 20 Jul 1916  Boulogne, Pas de Calais, France Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Buried Aft 20 Jul 1916  Eastern Cemetery, Boulogne, Pas de Calais, France Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Person ID I13315  Derbyshire Hills
    Last Modified 14 Jul 2016 

    Father samuel edward FROGGATT,   b. 1863, bethnal green, london. Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Mother elizabeth ruth TYSALL,   b. 1861, Shoreditch, London, England Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Married 1887  St George's Church, Hanover Square, London, England Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Family ID F2441  Group Sheet  |  Family Chart

  • Notes 
    • 16897 private samuel edward froggatt b coy 3rd battalion worcestershire regiment killed in france 20/7/1916.

      FOR THE FALLEN

      with proud thanksgiving a mother for her children,
      England mourns for her dead across the sea.
      Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
      Fallen in the cause of the free.

      Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
      Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
      There is music in the midst of desolation
      And a glory that shines upon our tears.

      They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
      Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
      They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
      They fell with their faces to the foe.

      They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
      Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
      At the going down of the sun and in the morning
      We will remember them.

      They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
      They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
      They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
      They sleep beyond England's foam.

      But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
      Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
      To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
      As the stars are known to the Night;

      As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
      Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
      As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
      To the end, to the end, they remain.


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