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DULCE ET DECORUM EST DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN by WILFRED OWEN

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Page 1: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

DULCE ET DECORUM DULCE ET DECORUM EST EST

by WILFRED OWEN by WILFRED OWEN

Page 2: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

BiographyBiography

• World War I poetry World War I poetry

• Shatters the illusion of the glory of Shatters the illusion of the glory of warwar

• Only four poems were published Only four poems were published during his lifetimeduring his lifetime

• Died age 25 two weeks before the Died age 25 two weeks before the war endedwar ended

Page 3: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion
Page 4: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

All Quiet on the Western Front

Page 5: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion
Page 6: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

StyleStyle

• In technique Owen’s work is distinguished by the extensive use of assonance in place of rhyme

Page 7: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• DULCE ET DECORUM EST1• 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 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.

Page 8: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• 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 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.

Page 9: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

ExplanationExplanation

• 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 honor to fight and die for your country 

Page 10: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• DULCE ET DECORUM EST1• 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 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.

Page 11: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• Rockets which were sent up to burn with a brilliant glare to light up men and other targets in the area between the front lines. AKA a sweet flare!!!

 

Page 12: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• DULCE ET DECORUM EST1• 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 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.

Page 13: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• A camp away from the front line where exhausted soldiers might rest for a few days, or longer 

Page 14: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• DULCE ET DECORUM EST1• 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 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.

Page 15: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• Hoots- the noise made by the shells rushing through the air.

Page 16: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• DULCE ET DECORUM EST1• 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 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.

Page 17: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• DULCE ET DECORUM EST1• 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 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.

Page 18: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• Of tired, outstripped- means that the men were tired and were having trouble keeping up with the heat of balttle.

Page 19: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• DULCE ET DECORUM EST1• 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 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.

Page 20: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• Five-Nines - 5.9 caliber explosive shells 

Page 21: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• DULCE ET DECORUM EST1• 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 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.

Page 22: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!- Refers to poison gas. From the symptoms it would appear to be chlorine or phosgene gas. The filling of the lungs with fluid had the same effects as when a person drowned 

Page 23: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• DULCE ET DECORUM EST1• 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 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.

Page 24: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time- Refers to the early name for gas masks.

Page 25: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• DULCE ET DECORUM EST1• 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 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.

Page 26: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• Like a man in fire or lime- Refers to a white chalky substance which can burn live tissue 

Page 27: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• DULCE ET DECORUM EST1• 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 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.

Page 28: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• Dim, through the misty panes is talking about the glass that was the eyepiece of the gas mask.

Page 29: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• DULCE ET DECORUM EST1• 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 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.

Page 30: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning -Owen probably meant flickering out like a candle or gurgling like water draining down a gutter, referring to the sounds in the throat of the choking man, or it might be a sound partly like stuttering and partly like gurgling . Kinda gross

Page 31: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• DULCE ET DECORUM EST1• 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 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.

Page 32: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• Bitter as the cud -normally the regurgitated grass that cows chew; here a similar looking material was issuing from the soldier's mouth

Page 33: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• DULCE ET DECORUM EST1• 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 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.

Page 34: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• high zest - idealistic enthusiasm, keenly believing in the rightness of the idea 

Page 35: DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN Biography World War I poetry World War I poetry Shatters the illusion of the glory of war Shatters the illusion

• DULCE ET DECORUM EST1• 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 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.

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• And then again he says the Latin phrase Dulce et Decorum est  Pro patria mori. Calling it a lie using the poem as proof that it is not sweet to die for your country.

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THE END!!!

IS IT REALLY SWEET TO DIE FOR YOUR

COUNTRY?