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Sonnets from a prison camp

Chapter 64: IV
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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.

IV

Who is it loometh o’er the Steppes at e’en,
A giant from the sunrise of man’s race,
Statured of eld, that immemorial face
Hewn out of Ararat, in which we glean,
And in the froward, patriarchal mien,
An old tale told in many a furrowed trace,
Moulded before the Sphynx crouched in her place,
By passion uncontrollable and clean.
For he hath sat with Abram in the tent,
And gazed on Hebron, till the blue heaven broke
Over them into stars. Then he went on
Down all the ages ageless and unbent,
Till in this later world of lesser folk
’Mongst men he towers the eternal Mastodon.

Hesepe, 23rd May