Norman Marrison SHARDLOW

Male 1896 - 1917  (21 years)


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  • Name Norman Marrison SHARDLOW 
    Born 1896  Nottingham, Nottinghamshire, England Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Gender Male 
    Died 5 Apr 1917  Vermelles, Pas de Calais, France Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Person ID I16330  Derbyshire Hills
    Last Modified 16 Jul 2016 

    Father joseph SHARDLOW,   b. 1860, Nottingham, Nottinghamshire, England Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Mother isabella HOLLIS,   b. 1860, Thimblebey, Lincolnshire, England Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Married 1891  Newark on Trent, Nottinghamshire, England Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Family ID F2803  Group Sheet  |  Family Chart

  • Notes 
    • 71274 private norman marrison shardlow 2 batallion sherwood foresters killed 5/4/1917 in france. remembered with honour at vermelles british cemetery.

      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.
      lawrence binyon


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