Poetry of the war

[Blue_sky]

WILFRED OWEN -Dulce et Decorum Est


Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes1 and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori

8 October 1917 - March, 1918

1 DULCE ET DECORUM EST - the first words of a Latin saying (taken from an ode by Horace). The words were widely understood and often quoted at the start of the First World War. They mean "It is sweet and right." The full saying ends the poem: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori - it is sweet and right to die for your country. In other words, it is a wonderful and great honour to fight and die for your country

[Blue_sky]

Strange meeting-OWEN


1 It seemed that out of the battle I escaped
2 Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped
3 Through granites which Titanic wars had groined.
4 Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,
5 Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.
6 Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared
7 With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,
8 Lifting distressful hands as if to bless.
9 And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall;
10 With a thousand fears that vision's face was grained;
11 Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground,
12 And no guns thumped, or down the fluies made moan.
13 "Strange, friend," I said, "Here is no cause to mourn."
14 "None," said the other, "Save the undone years,
15 The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours,
16 Was my life also; I went hunting wild
17 After the wildest beauty in the world,
18 Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,
19 But mocks the steady running of the hour,
20 And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here.
21 For by my glee might many men have laughed,
22 And of my weeping something has been left,
23 Which must die now. I mean the truth untold,
24 The pity of war, the pity war distilled.
25 Now men will go content with what we spoiled.
26 Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled.
27 They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress,
28 None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.
29 Courage was mine, and I had mystery;
30 Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery;
31 To miss the march of this retreating world
32 Into vain citadels that are not walled.
33 Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels
34 I would go up and wash them from sweet wells,
35 Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.
36 I would have poured my spirit without stint
37 But not through wounds; not on the cess of war.
38 Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were.
39 I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
40 I knew you in this dark; for so you frowned
41 Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
42 I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.
43 Let us sleep now ...

Wilfred Owen

[Blue_sky]

Does it matter?-Siegfried SASSOON


Does it matter?—losing your legs?...
For people will always be kind,
And you need not show that you mind
When the others come in after hunting
To gobble their muffins and eggs.

Does it matter ?—losing your sight?...
There's such splendid work for the blind;
And people will always be kind,
As you sit on the terrace remembering
And turning your face to the light.

Do they matter?—those dreams from the pit?...
You can drink and forget and be glad,
And people won't say that you're mad;
For they'll know you've fought for your country
And no one will worry a bit.

[Blue_sky]

Perhaps-Vera BRITTAIN
(one of my favorites)

Perhaps some day the sun will shine again,
And I shall see that still the skies are blue,
And feel once more I do not live in vain,
Although bereft of You.

Perhaps the golden meadows at my feet
Will make the sunny hours of spring seem gay,
And I shall find the white May-blossoms sweet,
Though You have passed away.

Perhaps the summer woods will shimmer bright,
And crimson roses once again be fair,
And autumn harvest fields a rich delight,
Although You are not there.

But though kind Time may many joys renew,
There is one greatest joy I shall not know
Again, because my heart for loss of You
Was broken, long ago.

[Blue_sky]

Siegfried Sassoon
"How to Die"


Dark clouds are smouldering into red
While down the craters morning burns.
The dying soldier shifts his head
To watch the glory that returns;
He lifts his fingers toward the skies
Where holy brightness breaks in flame;
Radiance reflected in his eyes,
And on his lips a whispered name.

You'd think, to hear some people talk,
That lads go West with sobs and curses,
And sullen faces white as chalk,
Hankering for wreaths and tombs and hearses.
But they've been taught the way to do it
Like Christian soldiers; not with haste
And shuddering groans; but passing through it
With due regard for decent taste.