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Sonnets from a prison camp

Chapter 83: XXIII
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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.

XXIII

As deeply versed in that infinitude
Where man his doom within himself doth find
By no strait pedagogy, but divined
Through some more massive sense of True and Good,
A kind of Inspiration, the soul’s food,
Derived from far, and working still behind
All conscious reason, till the labouring mind
’Neath that profounder suasion sinks subdued.
So Plato’s thought grows cosmic, by its own
Illumination led and mystified,
And haunted by a voice of purer tone
Than reason’s groping motion e’er supplied;
The beam refracted by the Forms and shown
As coloured light wherein the soul is dyed.

Hesepe, 14th June