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Sonnets from a prison camp

Chapter 136: XVIII
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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.

XVIII

Not to prevail by measure of thy might
O’er might that measures scarcely less than thine,
Bathing the naked world in blood and brine,
Till nature turns and sickens at the sight
—All but her vultures, gloating o’er the fight;
And the sun rages daily down the line
That doth compel his radiancy divine
So fair a world to such a doom to light—
Nay, be thy function rather to disperse
The shouldering elements, that so the core
Of pure light in this glimmering universe
May by its motion kindling more and more
The look and loveliness of Spirit bring
Into the face of every living thing.

Hesepe, 16th July