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Sonnets from a prison camp

Chapter 140: XXII
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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.

XXII

—Our own Immortals! Ours while we can keep
An isle of quiet for you ’neath the hoar
Shade of the Minster, where the Nation bore
Your mortal relics weeping. Rest you deep!
Rest! And while children’s children softly weep
Over you, and the great rose windows pour
A glory round, at peace for evermore
In marble and in alabaster sleep!
—Knowing your England! Knowing that while Time
Tries men by fire, these men will not recede
From where their fathers of the early prime
Led them by generations great in deed
To deeds still greater, where on fields sublime
The freeborn sons of England bled—and bleed!

Hesepe, 25th July