Source: Michael Doyle Their Name Liveth For Evermore: The Great War Roll of Honour for Leicestershire and Rutland.
He was the son of William and M. A. Moore. The War Diary for today records that a considerable amount of Trench mortaring and shelling took place. The Huns shelled Bethune, and our heavies retaliated on Le Bance. Battalion Operational Order number 15 issued as -?- relief by the Suffolk Regiment of our Support Company. Casualties other ranks 1 killed and 4 wounded.

Source: Leicestershire War Memorials Project.
Coalville Times article - Friday January 17th, 1917

IN MEMORY OF ARTHUR LOVELL

Fell in action, November, 1916.

Thy death, dear, o’er-shadowing, lies
Like a dark cloud ‘twixt earth and skies
Casting a gloom, o’er
Moments, that once before
Half of the light they wore
Caught from thine eyes.

God values most the martyr’s doom,
Thy name, dear, hence shall ever bloom,
And every thought of thee,
Now from all sorrows free,
Starlight to us shall be
Piercing the gloom.

Joseph Degen

Coalville Times article - Friday November 30th, 1917.

IN MEMORIAM

In loving memory of Private Arthur Lovell, killed in action in France, on November 28th, 1916.

“We think we see him still in life,
Though one sad year has passed,
But in our memory still he lives,
And will do till the last.”

From his loving Mother and Father and Brothers and Sisters.

St Saviour’s Bulletin

Vol. 1. November 1928 No. 4.

Published by Father Degen, The Catholic Church, Coalville, Leicester

Price – One Penny.

St. Saviour’s Roll of Honour

Edward Henry Hunt.
Joseph Sheffield.
Francis Edward Stafford.
Harold Edwin Ketcher.
William Ducksbury.
Allan Thorpe.
George Herbert Saddington.
Arthur Lovell.
John Mulrooney.

How vain is the wealth of flowers,
How vain is the mourner’s wreath,
How useless the marble tombstone,
To the dust that lies beneath.

How futile the empty praises,
How futile the tears that fall,
The sable and crape of mourning,
How empty and vain are all!

The voice of the dead is calling,
All through the wealth of flowers,
Not for our grief and tears.

Our own, our lost, our lov’d ones,
Oh! Could we but hear them speak;
Prayer is the flower they ask for,
Prayer is the wealth they seek.

More dear than the flower-lit grasses-
The fragrant churchyard sod-
One prayer for their souls to Jesus,
One prayer to the heart of God.

We can open the gates of heaven
By the wondrous key of prayer,
That the suffering souls may enter
The joy that awaits them there.

Research undertaken and submitted by Andy Murby 19/10/2017