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Sonnets from a prison camp

Chapter 106: VI
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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.

VI

Yet—for the kindly Mother may not quit
Her cloistered sanctuary, where from the height
Of scholarship’s remoteness day and night
She strains truth’s fabric—it is those who sit
A season at her feet, and learn to fit
Their spirits to her own, who must requite
These lofty cares, and carry out the light,
And serve it round, and tend its burning, lit.
But thine, O Kindly Mother, first to prove
Thy ministers, and having chosen, tune,
Bringing thy spirit o’er them, till they move
Like one at thy behest—as to the moon,
Passing soft influence from the quiet skies,
The oceans with their weight of waters rise.

Hesepe, 16th June