WeRead Powered by ReaderPub
Sonnets from a prison camp cover

Sonnets from a prison camp

Chapter 50: V
Open in WeRead

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.

V

What time in empty hour awhile relaxed,
Around my cage’s circuit I have paced,
Sunk in myself, and broodingly have traced
These late appalling issues, I have taxed
My country with a weakening will: “Thou slack’st
Thy effort, England.” Then some sight hath braced
My soul, and from my mind the doubt effaced.
England, it is not energy thou lack’st!
I felt it when one morn there sudden flew
Around the camp new life and boisterous cheer,
Unlike the mood of those who hitherto
Our wants supplied, and something did endear
The noise of labour to us, and we knew
That English orderlies at length were here.

Hesepe, 20th June