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Sonnets from a prison camp

Chapter 63: III
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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.

III

The other cause behind the ages lies,
A-swelter in the elemental yeast,
Where yet thou lay’st fermenting for the feast
Of nationality, thine opening eyes
Turned longingly to where the sun doth rise,
And thy great spirit, when the ferment ceased,
For ever oriented to the East,
Mysterious, helpless, beautiful and wise.
Thence while the bitter ages onward run,
And the fierce West doth rend a path through time,
Thou for the nations from the healing sun
Draw’st healing still, and in the teeth of crime
Provest by many a bloodless victory won,
Than this world’s pride of power Love more sublime.

Hesepe, 22nd May