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Sonnets from a prison camp

Chapter 139: XXI
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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.

XXI

Thou hast vast life in thee, howe’er uncouth,
And, unenlightened, dost possess the art
To feel the fairway home without the chart,
And erring still, inclinest still to truth.
The sense of justice and the sense of ruth
Are not yet dead within thee, and thy part
It is to be magnanimous. Thy heart
Bounds to the fulness of perpetual youth.
And while the shadows deepen into gloam,
And while the long years whiten on thy head,
Thy freshness fails not. Thou bring’st nightly home
The sense that thou hast earned a dreamless bed.
The solemn Abbey, and the whispering Dome
Open to-day to take thy Immortal Dead.

Hesepe, 22nd July