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POETS OF THE GREAT WAR

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Their poems were published just after the war, so they were not ... And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots ... – PowerPoint PPT presentation

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Title: POETS OF THE GREAT WAR


1

POETS OF THE GREAT WAR
By Ms Stubbs Downloaded from
www.SchoolHistory.co.uk
2
  • Poetry from the First World War was written by
    soldiers who served at the Western Front.
  • They saw the horrors of War first hand.
  • They wrote about what they really saw.
  • Their poems were published just after the
    war, so they were not censored. They are
    first hand and often unbiased sources.

3
WILFRED OWEN Wilfred Owen is one of the more
famous War Poets. He was born March 18th,
1893. He joined the Army in 1915 as an Officer in
the Artists Rifles. Wilfred Owen served in some
of the worst conditions during the following
months.
4
DULCE ET DECORUM EST By Wilfred Owen
5
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.
6
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 gas shells dropping softly behind.
7
Gas! GAS! Quick, Boys!
8
An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy
helmets just in time But someone still was
yelling out and stumbling, And floundring 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.
9
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He
plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
10
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 devils 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,
11
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.
12
November 4th, 1918 Owen and his men went over
the top. He was shot and killed by German
machine guns on the banks of the Sambre-Ouse
Canal.
The War ended just a week later on November
11th. Wilfred Owen was 25 years old.
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