Dulce et decorum Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we curse
Dulce et decorum 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 hootsOf 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 stumblingAnd 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 paceBehind 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 bloodCome gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cudOf vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, -My friend, you would not tell with such high zestTo children ardent for some desperate glory,The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori. Wilfred Owen, MC (18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918) was killed in action at the Battle of the Sambre, just one week before the war ended.The poem is also known as ‘The old Lie’.Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori is from the Roman poet Horace, and means “it is sweet and honorable to die for one’s country,” something that Wilfred Owen’s poem, with its description of the savagery of war, in particular the gas attacks, puts to the lie.11 November, 2018. -- source link