Liedholz shot at me

and I at him;

in the ensuing tumult he surrendered to me.

Before we reached our wire

he told me he had a wife and three children.

In the dug-out we gave him a whiskey.

Going to the Brigade with my prisoner at dawn

the early sun made the land delightful

and larks rose singing from the plain.

In broken French we discussed

Beethoven, Nietzsche and the International.

He was a professor

Living at Spandau

and not too intelligible.

Herbert Read

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