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Sonnets from a prison camp

Chapter 47: II
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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.

II

How hard it is to think upon this shoal
Of Inanition that the world’s ablaze.
How hard to link these lazy summer days
With ends and issues that will not unroll
Their length in æons—mankind’s furthest goal,
Perpending in the thick and murderous haze
Of yonder battle-hurricane that lays
Legions to rest till the last tattoo roll.
On sun-beat sand the busy ants deploy;
Industrious spiders ply their little looms;
With brush and pencil or with book we toy.
The quiet evening nears; the beetle booms.
God blazes at the world. Hell gapes for joy.
And Europe whitens with those nameless tombs.

Hesepe, 30th May