Sonnets from a prison camp

Chapter 101: I

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About This Book

A sequence of sonnets composed by a soldier in enemy captivity during the First World War, recording frontline violence, the suddenness of bombardment, marches and captures, the strain of waiting and the loss of comrades, and the solace found in memory and poetic labour. Many poems juxtapose immediate scenes—exploding shrapnel, crowded billets, marches, and internment camps—with reveries of homeland landscapes and classical or moral reflections. Sections move between field incidents, the nadir of imprisonment, thoughts of home and influences, and short epigrams or maxims, showing how verse acted as a mental bulwark against despair while exploring themes of fate, endurance, and the persistence of inner freedom.

I

Line after line the tale beneath the pen

Moves on, and rodent Time with tireless tooth

Works o’er our portion, till one day forsooth

We tread the cool gray shadow, ageing men.

This change I mark, and sadly pondering then

Catch the soul’s murmur, accented with ruth:

“Oh, let me hear upon the lips of youth

‘Eothen’ and ‘Eothen’ once again!”

And Oxford, oh, do thou with soulful toil,

While o’er our folk tumultuous ages throng,

Mounted at night as o’er some priceless spoil,

For us the fineness of this cult prolong,

Still nurturing in our sweet English soil

That glory from the Morningland of song.

Hesepe, 8th June