Percy ILLINGWORTH

Male 1896 - 1917  (21 years)


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  • Name Percy ILLINGWORTH 
    Born 1896  Bradford, Yorkshire, England Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Gender Male 
    Residence 1911  3, chatsworth place manningham bradford yorkshire. Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Died 17 Aug 1917  Tyne Cot, West Vlaanderen, Belgium Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Person ID I09629  Derbyshire Hills
    Last Modified 15 Jul 2016 

    Father Lightfoot ILLINGWORTH,   b. 1859, Shipley, Yorkshire, England Find all individuals with events at this location,   d. 1912, Bradford, Yorkshire, England Find all individuals with events at this location  (Age 53 years) 
    Mother amelia frances FOREACRE,   b. 1860, Wellington, Devon, England Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Married 23 Sep 1882  St Barnabas' Church, Heaton, Yorkshire, England Find all individuals with events at this location 
    Family ID F2202  Group Sheet  |  Family Chart

  • Notes 
    • 40790 private percy illingworth 9th batallion royal dublin fusileers killed in france 17/8/1917. remembered with hounour at the tyne cot memorial.

      FOR THE FALLEN
      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.
      laurence binyon



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