Written during the First World War, Gurney imagines what it might be like after death, when human souls drift through blank blue spaces, cut off from everything they loved. The speaker calls these souls bare, unhappy, and exiled, saying their thoughts would return again and again to the familiar, lovely details of earth: light and shadow, violets, wrens, blackbirds, bluebells, and daisies. Those tiny things are not trivial; they feel like the very stuff of the soul. The poem turns into a quiet plea: do not set us on some strange, outlandish star, but somewhere with love and a sense of home. There, even if the long ages roll on, we could wait content instead of being frightened by endless time. The mood is tender, fragile, and deeply homesick — less about grand heaven than about wanting to belong somewhere small, known, and cared for.
Sonnets 1917: Home-Sickness — Summary
When we go wandering the wide air’s blue spaces, Bare, unhappy, exiled souls of men; How will our thoughts over and over again Return to Earth’s familiar lovely places, Where light with shadow ever interlaces-- No blanks of blue, nor ways beyond man’s ken-- Where birds are, and flowers, as violet, and wren, Blackbird, bluebell, hedge-sparrow, tiny daisies. O tiny things, but very stuff of soul To us ... so frail.... Remember what we are; Set us not on some strange outlandish star, But one caring for Love. Give us a Home. There we may wait while the long ages roll Content, unfrightened by vast Time-to-come.