Charles Sorley

Image can be found here.

Charles Hamilton Sorley, born on May 19, 1895, in Aberdeen, Scotland, was a British poet whose life was tragically cut short during World War I. The son of philosopher William Ritchie Sorley, Charles moved with his family to Cambridge at the age of five. He attended King’s College School and later Marlborough College, where he developed a passion for cross-country running, often reflected in his early poems like “Rain” and “The Song of the Ungirt Runners.”

In early 1914, Sorley traveled to Germany to immerse himself in the language and culture, studying in Schwerin and later at the University of Jena. His time in Germany was abruptly ended by the outbreak of World War I. After a brief detention in Trier, he returned to England and enlisted in the British Army. Joining the Suffolk Regiment as a second lieutenant, he was later promoted to captain. Sorley served on the Western Front, where he was killed by a sniper during the Battle of Loos on October 13, 1915.

Sorley’s wartime experiences deeply influenced his poetry, which is noted for its unsentimental and reflective nature. His final poem, “When You See Millions of the Mouthless Dead,” was found among his belongings after his death and is considered one of his most poignant works. Posthumously, his collection “Marlborough and Other Poems” was published in 1916 and received critical acclaim, with six editions printed in the first year.

Despite his brief life, Sorley is regarded as one of the significant war poets of his time. Poet Laureate John Masefield considered him the greatest loss among the poets killed during the war. His work continues to be studied for its candid portrayal of the futility and devastation of war, offering a perspective that contrasts with the more romanticized views of his contemporaries.

Sorley’s legacy endures through his poetry, which captures the stark realities of conflict and the profound loss of a generation. His contributions have been commemorated in various forms, including a slate stone unveiled in Westminster Abbey’s Poet’s Corner in 1985, honoring him among 16 Great War poets. His life and work remain a testament to the enduring power of poetry to articulate the human experience, even amidst the horrors of war.

You may learn more at the Poetry Foundation and Wikipedia.

The Seekers

Charles Sorley
The gates are open on the road

That leads to beauty and to God.

The River

Charles Sorley
He watched the river running black

Beneath the blacker sky;
It did not pause upon its track

Peace

Charles Sorley
There is silence in the evening when the long days cease,

And a million men are praying for an ultimate release
From strife and sweat and sorrow–they are praying for peace.

Rain

Charles Sorley
When the rain is coming down,

And all Court is still and bare,
And the leaves fall wrinkled, brown,

Two Sonnets

Charles Sorley
I

Saints have adored the lofty soul of you.

Expectans expectavi

Charles Sorley
From morn to midnight, all day through,

I laugh and play as others do,
I sin and chatter, just the same

Lost

Charles Sorley
Across my past imaginings

Has dropped a blindness silent and slow.
My eye is bent on other things

Le Revenant

Charles Sorley
He trod the oft-remembered lane

(Now smaller-seeming than before
When first he left his father’s door

To Germany

Charles Sorley
You are blind like us. Your hurt no man designed,

And no man claimed the conquest of your land.
But gropers both through fields of thought confined

Deus loquitur

Charles Sorley
That’s what I am: a thing of no desire,

With no path to discover and no plea
To offer up, so be my altar fire

To Poets

Charles Sorley
We are the homeless, even as you,

Who hope and never can begin.
Our hearts are wounded through and through

Whom therefore we ignorantly worship

Charles Sorley
These things are silent. Though it may be told

Of luminous deeds that lighten land and sea,
Strong sounding actions with broad minstrelsy

German Rain

Charles Sorley
The heat came down and sapped away my powers.

The laden heat came down and drowned my brain,
Till through the weight of overcoming hours

The Other Wise Man

Charles Sorley
(SCENE: _A valley with a wood on one side and a road running up to

a distant hill: as it might be, the valley to the east of West
Woods, that runs up to Oare Hill, only much larger._ TIME: _Autumn.

J. B.

Charles Sorley
There’s still a horse on Granham hill,

And still the Kennet moves, and still
Four Miler sways and is not still.

Return

Charles Sorley
Still stand the downs so wise and wide?

Still shake the trees their tresses grey?
I thought their beauty might have died

Autumn Dawn

Charles Sorley
And this is morning. Would you think

That this was the morning, when the land
Is full of heavy eyes that blink

Stones

Charles Sorley
This field is almost white with stone

That cumber all its thirsty crust.
And underneath, I know, are bones.

Rooks (II)

Charles Sorley
There is such cry in all these birds,

More than can ever be express’d;
If I should put it into words,

Rooks

Charles Sorley
There, where the rusty iron lies,

The rooks are cawing all the day.
Perhaps no man, until he dies,

What you will

Charles Sorley
O come and see, it’s such a sight,

So many boys all doing right:
To see them underneath the yoke,

Barbury Camp

Charles Sorley
We burrowed night and day with tools of lead,

Heaped the bank up and cast it in a ring
And hurled the earth above. And Caesar said,

MARLBOROUGH

Charles Sorley
I

Crouched where the open upland billows down

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Discover more from War Poetry

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading