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Sonnets from a prison camp

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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.

X

Turgenev, gentlest of the sons of pain,
Who in a line, as Homer wont, distillest
The essence of all pathos, thou who fillest
A human place ’twixt the Cyclopean twain,
’Tis not with hell-fire driven o’er the brain,
Nor stretched titanic canvas that thou thrillest,
But by the plotted garden-space thou tillest,
Making man’s middle courses thy domain.
Here once more we discern how still great art
Meets nature greatly. Elemental powers
Pulse in thy perfect pages. Souls depart
With awe upon them to the silent bowers.
The world is ever with thee, its great heart
Laid to thy beating own, as thine to ours.

Hesepe, 21st May