Dulce Et Decorum
Est-Wilfred Owen
Bent double, like old beggars under
sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares2 we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest3 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 hoots4
Of tired, outstripped5 Five-Nines6 that dropped behind.
Gas!7 Gas! Quick, boys! – An
ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets8 just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime9 . . .
Dim, through the misty panes10 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,11 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 cud12
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest13
To children ardent14 for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.15
Source: http://www.warpoetry.co.uk/owen1.html
He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark,
And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey,
Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park
Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn,
Voices of play and pleasure after day, (5)
Till gathering sleep had mothered them from him.
About this time Town used to swing so gay
When glow-lamps budded in the light blue trees,
And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim, –
In the old times, before
he threw away his knees. (10)
Now he will never feel again how slim
Girls' waists are, or how
warm their subtle hands.
All of them touch him like some queer disease.
There was an artist silly for his face,
For it was
younger than his youth, last year. (15)
Now, he is old; his back will never brace;
He's lost his
colour very far from here,
Poured it down shell-holes till the veins ran dry,
And half his lifetime lapsed in the hot race
And leap of purple spurted
from his thigh.
(20)
One time he liked a blood- smear down his leg,
After the matches, carried shoulder-high.
It was after football, when he'd drunk a peg,
He thought he'd better join. – He wonders why.
Someone had said he'd look a god
in kilts, (25)
That's why; and maybe, too, to please his Meg,
Aye, that was it, to please the giddy jilts
He asked to join. He didn't have to beg;
Smiling they wrote his lie: aged
nineteen years.
Germans he scarcely thought of; all their guilt, (30)
And Austria's, did not move him. And no fears
Of Fear came yet. He thought of jewelled hilts
For daggers in plaid socks; of smart salutes;
And care of arms; and leave; and pay arrears;
Esprit de corps; and hints for young recruits. (35)
And soon, he was drafted out with drums and cheers.
Some cheered him home, but not as crowds cheer Goal.
Only a solemn man who brought him fruits
Thanked him; and then enquired about his soul.
Now, he will spend a few sick years in institutes,
(40)
And do what
things the rules consider wise,
And take whatever pity they may dole.
Tonight
he noticed how the women's eyes
Passed from him to the strong men that were whole.
How cold and late it is! Why
don't they come (45)
And put him into bed? Why
don't they come
Source:
http://www.oucs.ox.ac.uk/ltg/projects/jtap/tutorials/intro/owen/
Head to limp head, the sunk-eyed wounded scanned
Yesterday's Mail; the casualties (typed small)
And (large) Vast Booty from our Latest Haul.
Also, they read of Cheap Homes, not yet planned,
'For', said the paper, 'when this war is done (5)
The men's first instincts will be making homes.
Meanwhile their foremost need is aerodromes,
It being certain war has but begun.
Peace would do wrong to our undying dead, –
The sons we offered might regret they died (10)
If we got nothing lasting in their stead.
We must be solidly indemnified.
Though all be worthy Victory which all bought,
We rulers sitting in this ancient spot
Would wrong our very selves if we forgot (15)
The greatest glory will be theirs who fought,
Who kept this nation in integrity.'
Nation? – The half-limbed readers did not chafe
But smiled at one another curiously
Like secret men who know their secret safe. (20)
(This is the thing they know and never speak,
That England one by one had fled to France,
Not many elsewhere now, save under France.)
Pictures of these broad smiles appear each week,
And people in whose voice real feeling rings (25)
Say: How they smile! They're happy now, poor things.
Source: http://www.oucs.ox.ac.uk/ltg/projects/jtap/tutorials/intro/owen/smile.html
In
these poems, we can see that Wilfred Owen is talking about the World War from
different viewpoints. The three poems reflect, in different ways, the same
idea: the war is not a beautiful thing, the idea that people have about war is
not true, the war is ugly and cruel; and in my opinion, these three poems make
special reference to young people because they were, firstly, the most
enthusiastic and after the war, they were the most damaged people, so we can
say that this poems criticize the war in all its aspects.
The
first poem, “Dulce et Decorum est”, is about the soldier’s suffering in the
front. In this poem, we can see that the poet does not talk about the glories
of the war, as other poems do, like “Charge of the Light Brigade”, or about the
victories or special actions. The poet talks about the normal life of the
soldiers in the front, the soldier’s wealth: “knock-kneed, coughing like
hags…”, “Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots / but limped on,
blood-shod. All went lame; all blind…” He also talks about the Gas, the most
terrible weapon that was known in that moment, and the consequences that this
Gas causes in soldiers: “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, incurables sores on innocent tongues,”. This poem shows us that the
reality of the war is not honorable or grandiose but is only suffering.
In
the second poem, “Disabled”, we can see clearly reflected two more situations
of the war, we can say that the poem describes the previous and the following
period of the war. The “pre-war” is described, when people, specially young
people, think that war is an honorable thing, like a football match. In that
poem Owen shows us the idea that young English people have about the war, it
was an unrealistic idea: “Germans he scarcely thought of; all their guilt, /
And Austria’s did not move him. And no fears”.
The
idea that young English people had about war was based on stereotypes and on
idealized things. “He though of jeweled hilts / For daggers in plaid socks; of
smart salutes; / And care of arms; and leave; and pay arrears;”. In this poem
we can also see the “post-war”, when these young people return home and have
suffered all the situations that Owen explained in the poem “Dulce et Decorum
est”, and these situations have deeply marked them in two ways: in a physical
way and in a mental way. The war has broken their lives, in the poem we can see
that the young man is observing the life that occurs around him, but he cannot
participate in this life, because he is disabled, and because he is not the
same person, he has lost a part of his body, but he has also lost his youth and
his ideals in the World War: “He’s lost his colour very far from here / Poured
it down shell-holes till the veins ran dry, / Poured it down shell-holes till
the veins ran dry, / And leap of purple spurted from his thigh”.
In
the third poem, Owen talks about other aspects of the war; in this poem he
reflects the situation of the country during the war; people who are not in the
war, do not really know what is happening; the only way to know what happens
are the papers, and the papers do not inform about the cruelty of the war:
“Pictures of these broad smiles appear each week / and people in whose voice
real feeling rings / say: How they smile! They’re happy now, poor things.” And
when they have to inform about some important things, like casualties, we see
that they talk about this type of news in a very dishonest manner: “Yesterday’s
Mail; the casualties (typed small) / and (large) Vast Booty from our
Latest Haul.”
So
we can see in these three poems, that Owen writes about all the situations that
occur in a war: the period before the war, the period during the war (in the
front and in the rearguard) and the period after the war. He talks about all
this periods with a main idea: the war is not beautiful, the war is very cruel
and ugly, and people are wrong when they think that war is honorable or has
benefits; and people are wrong because they do not know anything about the
reality of the war, and because the governments deceive citizens.
Bibliography:
· home page by Eric Laermans
Eric Laermans ed. Visited 29 March 2006.
http://users.fulladsl.be/spb1667/welcome_eng.html
· wilfred owen Multimedia digital archive
Paul Groves ed. Visited 29 March 2006.
· wolfred owen association
Wilfred Owen’s association ed.
Visited 29 March 2006.
http://www.1914-18.co.uk/owen/