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Sonnets from a prison camp

Chapter 77: XVII
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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.

XVII

I paced entranced the mourne, melodious shore
Where Sophocles unwinds with matchless art
Life’s tangled error, pondering in my heart
The tragic theme that middle diction bore—
The end not hopeless, when, all wanderings o’er,
By still Colonus in that place apart
The thunder rolled, and while the earth did start,
The old man of the sorrows was no more.
And I have felt the moving of the strings
Beneath the fingers of that troubled soul,
Third in the triple dynasty of kings,
Whose tenderness, beyond his art’s control,
Over life’s mutilated torso wrings
Fierce protest, agonizing for the Whole.

Hesepe, 10th June