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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 om, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas shells dropping softly 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 hight zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Wilfred Owen 1893-1918 Dulce Et Decorum Est
This is one of the most famous First World War poems written by possibly
the finest of the Great War poets. The old Lie, dulce et decorum est pro
patria mori, was that 'there is nothing more sweet and fitting than to
die for your country'.
Owen was killed the same day and in the same area as my great uncle and
is buried at Ors. He was killed whilst trying to cross the Sambre Canal,
the same objective which William Jones was heading to when he was killed
on the 4th November 1918. Owen's parents received notification of his
death as the bells were ringing out on Armistice Day. Below is another
famous poem by Owen, Anthem for Doomed Youth.
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