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Sonnets from a prison camp

Chapter 92: VI
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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.

VI

“Gehorsam.” It is seldom that one hears
The German tongue commended. Yet I find
No spell more swift, more potent to unbind
The spirit’s shades in some fine phrase that clears
An entrance to the import of the years,
Where speech, unwinding as thought’s coils unwind,
Makes landfall, and companioning man’s mind,
Ends in the Innermost, whereto he steers.
And many a haunting solitary sound
In that strange tongue, with doubling content fraught,
Booms at the ear of conscience, whose profound
Responses in that energy are caught,
And Teuton loyalty, that holds its ground,
Sweeps Europe still, and sets a world at naught.

Hesepe, 4th July