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Sonnets from a prison camp

Chapter 21: XVI
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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.

XVI

How it befel?—The overreaching arm,
Bombs; and he was among us. In his plan
Surprise completed what surprise began.
The treacherous shelter of a too-near farm,
A ditch along a road, a false alarm,
Thirty yards of the open; in the van
A desperado running—How he ran!—
And the pack had us. Hands up and disarm!
—It is the end of all, the bitter end,
The unpardonable, though ineluctable,
A breach in life no living now will mend;
The sin that sinned not; fell not, yet a fall.
One thought burned in the brain: How dear it cost
England to gain what I this day have lost!

Rastatt, 1st May