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Sonnets from a prison camp

Chapter 96: X
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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

Unto man’s spirit thou art closely bound
By natural drift and consanguinity,
But more by long companionship, the tie
That holds you twain together tightly wound
First in his infancy, where thou art found
Like some great watchdog that doth panting lie
Stretched by his infant master, his dull eye
Wakeful, his sharp ear cocked at every sound.
Nay, for the bond is closer, ’twas thy face
Bent over him at birth; thy kindly pains
Steadied his childish feet. Nor can we trace
What in his blood derives not from thy veins
By long transfusion unprecipitate,
Alive, organically intimate.

Hesepe, 19th July