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 disappointed shells 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 floundering like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim, through the misty panes 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.


Analysis/Commentary

This poem, as many others, is a hard critique of the war. This one especially concentrates on the propagandathat occour in the various nations in wich they say that it is sweetand honorable to die for their country (dulce et decorum est pro patria mori). The real meaning of this poem is not clear till the very end where the last line completes the latin sentencethat gave the title to the poem. Before revealing the whole sentence the poet describes the horrible conditions of the soldiers marching and the most terrible death that they could witness or encounter on the battlefield of WWI: gas. He implicitly tells thet there is nothing of heroic when dying killed by gas while retreating towards the supply lines (L.3).in this poem there is a tight rhyme skeme (ABAB), but towards the end it starts to fail and by the time you realize the true meaning of the poem you will also notice that the rhymes accompaign you through the decline and falsity of the initial sentence.

Disabled

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,
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.
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.
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.
One time he liked a bloodsmear 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.

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; 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.
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 inquired about his soul.
Now, he will spend a few sick years in Institutes,
And do what things the rules consider wise,
And take whatever pity they may dole.
To-night 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
And put him into bed? Why don't they come?


Analysis/Commentary

This poem was written during the permanence of the poet in an hospital. He was there because he actually started suffering from shell shock. This illness actually gave him a grate position from where to write poems and "Disabled" is a proof of it. In this poem Owen narrates of how a serious injury actually alienates you from the rest of the world and from the rest of civilization. The term "queer" is recurrent in the poemand it is used to emphasize the fact that the injured is actually alienated. In this composition, as always, the poet criticizes war, but at the same time it prizes the soldiers who fought it by bringing the horrors of the conflict to the pubblic eye.

The Chances

I mind as 'ow the night afore that show
Us five got talking, -- - we was in the know,
"Over the top to-morrer; boys, we're for it,
First wave we are, first ruddy wave; that's tore it."
"Ah well," says Jimmy, -- - an' 'e's seen some scrappin' -- -
"There ain't more nor five things as can 'appen;
Ye get knocked out; else wounded -- - bad or cushy;
Scuppered; or nowt except yer feeling mushy."

One of us got the knock-out, blown to chops.
T'other was hurt, like, losin' both 'is props.
An' one, to use the word of 'ypocrites,
'Ad the misfortoon to be took by Fritz.
Now me, I wasn't scratched, praise God Almighty
(Though next time please I'll thank 'im for a blighty),
But poor young Jim, 'e's livin' an' 'e's not;
'E reckoned 'e'd five chances, an' 'e's 'ad;
'E's wounded, killed, and pris'ner, all the lot -- -
The ruddy lot all rolled in one. Jim's mad.


Analysis/Commentary

This poem describes a common mental illness during WWI: shell shock. Many soldiers were executed because thought to be inventing sikness not to attack when, in reality, they were sick. In this case Jimmy is suffering from shel shock L.18 "Jimmy's mad". Although all the effects of the illness are swept aside by the second stanza which describes the horrors of the attack. This poem also describes the desire of soldiers to actually get a serious, but not fatal wound (cushy) that would bring them home.

Futility

Move him into the sun -- -
Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields unsown.
Always it woke him, even in France,
Until this morning and this snow.
If anything might rouse him now
The kind old sun will know.

Think how it wakes the seeds -- -
Woke, once, the clays of a cold star.
Are limbs so dear-achieved, are sides
Full-nerved, -- - still warm, -- - too hard to stir?
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
-- O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
To break earth's sleep at all?


Analysis/Commentary

In this composition the author actually proposes a question to the reader. In the first stanza the poet tryes to convey the notion that the sun gave birth to life, that it is keeping it alive with his light and heat, but the last two lines of the poem ask a question: why did he bother to do so? This question arouses because the poet wrote this composition in the middle of WWI when the life of young soldiers were daily destroyed. Owen pushes the reader to think why young men are sent to fight a lost battle of an unjust war, and he warns the future generations on the horrors of a conflict and induces them to avoid it.

Conscious

His fingers wake, and flutter up the bed.
His eyes come open with a pull of will,
Helped by the yellow may-flowers by his head.
A blind-cord drawls across the window-sill . . .
How smooth the floor of the ward is! what a rug!
And who's that talking, somewhere out of sight?
Why are they laughing? What's inside that jug?
"Nurse! Doctor!" "Yes; all right, all right."

But sudden dusk bewilders all the air -- -
There seems no time to want a drink of water.
Nurse looks so far away. And everywhere
Music and roses burnt through crimson slaughter.
Cold; cold; he's cold; and yet so hot:
And there's no light to see the voices by -- -
No time to dream, and ask -- - he knows not what.


Analysis/Commentary

In Conscious the poet probably describes his experiance in the hospital. This poem has a very confused tone resembling the confusion of the wounded, that had probably lost concious when hit, and now he finds himself in a pleasent environment. This is just for the first stanza because, in the second, the wounded soldier starts to feel pain and remember the terrible shock of the battle and of beig hit. This shock actually leaves him with nothing to say (L.14-15) and contrasting sensations (L.13).

The End

After the blast of lightning from the east,
The flourish of loud clouds, the Chariot throne,
After the drums of time have rolled and ceased
And from the bronze west long retreat is blown,

Shall Life renew these bodies? Of a truth
All death will he annul, all tears assuage?
Or fill these void veins full again with youth
And wash with an immortal water age?

When I do ask white Age, he saith not so, -- -
"My head hangs weighed with snow."
And when I hearken to the Earth she saith
My fiery heart sinks aching. It is death.
Mine ancient scars shall not be glorified
Nor my titanic tears the seas be dried."


Analysis/Commentary

In this poem W.O. is describing the death of a soldier and the ending of a battle. We can understand that it is a battle from the first 2 stanzas; in the first the poet tells us that the enemyartillery ceased fire and started to retreat unable to continue the assault; in the second Owen is thinking of all the dead soldiers left on the ground and desiresthat they are brought back to life by God. In the third and last stanza he is describing the death of a soldier very cruently, because it makes very clear that no one will actually remembr him, but he sacrificed his life fot the country.

On Seeing a Piece of Our Heavy Artillery Brought into Action

Be slowly lifted up, thou long black arm,
Great Gun towering towards Heaven, about to curse;
Sway steep against them, and for years rehearse
Huge imprecations like a blasting charm!
Reach at that Arrogance which needs thy harm,
And beat it down before its sins grow worse.
Spend our resentment, cannon, -- yea, disburse
Our gold in shapes of flame, our breaths in storm.

Yet, for men's sakes whom thy vast malison
Must wither innocent of enmity,
Be not withdrawn, dark arm, thy spoilure done,
Safe to the bosom of our prosperity.
But when thy spell be cast complete and whole,
May God curse thee, and cut thee from our soul!


Analysis/Commentary

In this poem the author describes an artillery attack on enemy lines. Owen, in the first stanza, is actually personificating the artillery piece and actually prizing it's work, although it is a "Grate gun towering towards heaven" as if it would try to kill God himself. The poet actually sees the cannon as a way to disbruse (spread) their own resentment over the enemy. In the second stanza he blesses the cannon for the work and encourages him to continue in order to save the soldiers' lifes, but in the last 2 lines he curses it because it still brings death and destruction when "the spell is whole" (when the shell hits the deck).

Strange Meeting

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


Analysis/Commentary

This is a very particular poem. In here we have the impressionto be in a dream, a nighmare. The protagonist found suddenly himself transported from the battlegrounds to hell where he meets a "strange friend" that explains the pain that there is in that place. This vision is pretty disconcerting because it is a vision of blood, pain, war, suffering; but at the same time the soldiers feels an unnatural peace because of the absence of the noises of the battle. This gives to the reader an unseatteling sensation. This sensation grows till the climax in L.40 when the unsaettlement transforms in fear when we discover that our friend is an enemy that you kulled. This line also suggests that, instead of being a nightmare, it is the moment immediately afterwards the killing, when the soldier is shocked. This is one of my favourite poems of Owen because it is so clear yet so implicit, and dose not directly criticize war, but doese it in between the lines.

Greater Love

Red lips are not so red
As the stained stones kissed by the English dead.
Kindness of wooed and wooer
Seems shame to their love pure.
O Love, your eyes lose lure
When I behold eyes blinded in my stead!

Your slender attitude
Trembles not exquisite like limbs knife-skewed,
Rolling and rolling there
Where God seems not to care;
Till the fierce love they bear
Cramps them in death's extreme decrepitude.

Your voice sings not so soft,--
Though even as wind murmuring through raftered loft,--
Your dear voice is not dear,
Gentle, and evening clear,
As theirs whom none now hear,
Now earth has stopped their piteous mouths that coughed.

Heart, you were never hot
Nor large, nor full like hearts made great with shot;
And though your hand be pale,
Paler are all which trail
Your cross through flame and hail:
Weep, you may weep, for you may touch them not.


Analysis/Commentary

"Greater love" is a really nice poem, one of my favourites since it doese not deal with the critique of war so mouch, but with the brotherhood love that is established between soldiers. Owen calls this love "Greater" than erotic love; in fact he honors it with words souch as fierce, pure, exquisite because it is the love of who suffered and died for their nation. Although Owen dislikes the cityzens because they are not able to comprehend and grasp this sacrifical love. this love is actually compared to the one that Christ had towards the sinners. The sacrifice of the soldiers actually make this love pure, grater in beauty and more real, greater enough to obscure erotic love and make it seem a shame.

At a Calvary Near The Ancre

One ever hangs where shelled roads part.
In this war He too lost a limb,
But His disciples hide apart;
And now the Soldiers bear with Him.

Near Golgotha strolls many a priest,
And in their faces there is pride
That they were flesh-marked by the Beast
By whom the gentle Christ's denied.

The scribes on all the people shove
And bawl allegiance to the state,
But they who love the greater love
Lay down their life; they do not hate.


Analysis/Commentary

In this poem Owen makes a comparison between the sacrifice of Christ and the soldiers. In L.1-4 the "He" is referred either to good or Christ. In this first satnza He (God) is painful because his disciples hiding and many die "mutilating" Him. The second stanza, L.5-8, describes the departure of the soldiers to the battlefront "in their faces there is pride", but he also said that they were marked by the Beast. This capitalizwd name may refer to the war itself or to the hate towards the enemy bacause that is what "Christ denied". In the third and last stanza it says that all the politicians, the generals recruit amongst the people young soldiers because of the alliance to the state, but the poet, in the last 2 lines, criticizes them by saying that in the name of a true patriotic love you do not hate your enemies and use force, but peacefy youself and if you must you sacrifice you own life and not the ones of young men.

The Parable of the Old Man and the Young

So Abram rose, and clave the wood, and went,
And took the fire with him, and a knife.
And as they sojourned both of them together,
Isaac the first-born spake and said, My Father,
Behold the preparations, fire and iron,
But where the lamb for this burnt-offering?
Then Abram bound the youth with belts and strops,
And builded parapets and trenches there,
And stretched forth the knife to slay his son.
When lo! an angel called him out of heaven,
Saying, Lay not thy hand upon the lad,
Neither do anything to him. Behold,
A ram, caught in a thicket by its horns;
Offer the Ram of Pride instead of him.

But the old man would not so, but slew his son,
And half the seed of Europe, one by one.

Analysis/Commentary

This whole poem is an allusion to a parable of the old testament and compares it with the modern war in which the author in forced to fight. In L.8 we can see the first reference to the modern conflict when Abraham builds "parapets and trenches" as a preparation for the sacrifice of his first born child. The parable narrate that at this point an angle (L.10) stopped Abram and convinced him to sacrifice a trapped ram instead, but owen changes the endig of the story strumentalizing it in ordet to critique the war that slew "half the seed of Europe, one by one" (L.14-15). Abraham in this poem is the personification of all the nations that fought and started WWI while Isaac rapresent the joung and innocent generation sent to die as a sacrifice on the altar of war. As in most of Owen's poems no rhyme scheme can be found exept some (L.15-16) used to reinforce an argument.

General information on the poet (links).

http://users.fulladsl.be/spb1667/cultural/owen.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wilfred_Owen