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Dulce et Decorum Est By Wilfred Owen

By Wilfred Owen. WILFRED OWEN (18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918) An English poet and soldier, regarded by many as one of the leading poets of the First

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Page 1: By Wilfred Owen. WILFRED OWEN (18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918) An English poet and soldier, regarded by many as one of the leading poets of the First

Dulce et Decorum EstBy Wilfred Owen

Page 2: By Wilfred Owen. WILFRED OWEN (18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918) An English poet and soldier, regarded by many as one of the leading poets of the First

WILFRED OWEN(18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918)

An English poet and soldier, regarded by many as one of the leading poets of the First World War. He is perhaps just as well-known for having been killed in action at the Battle of the Sambre just a week before the war ended, causing news of his death to reach home as the town's church bells declared peace.

Page 3: By Wilfred Owen. WILFRED OWEN (18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918) An English poet and soldier, regarded by many as one of the leading poets of the First

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

backsAnd towards our distant rest began to trudge.Men marched asleep. Many had lost their

bootsBut 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

lightAs 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 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 zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old Lie: Dulce et decorum estPro patria mori.

Page 4: By Wilfred Owen. WILFRED OWEN (18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918) An English poet and soldier, regarded by many as one of the leading poets of the First

Dulce et Decorum EstTitle comes from a Horace’s (Roman)

ode asserting the glory of dying for your country.

A common toast during the 19th century.

Verbal irony of title - seems patriotic. The whole point of the poem is to destroy the vision of war as “sweet” or “proper.”

Page 5: By Wilfred Owen. WILFRED OWEN (18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918) An English poet and soldier, regarded by many as one of the leading poets of the First

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.

Perfect rhyme in first four lines emphasizes the overriding image of fatigue of the foot soldiers (mundane repetition)

“o” “ou” “u”—Sounds like “grunts”

with heavy loads

Page 6: By Wilfred Owen. WILFRED OWEN (18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918) An English poet and soldier, regarded by many as one of the leading poets of the First

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.

sludge and trudge with “uh” assonance create a tone of weariness, drudgery

metaphor of flares as ghosts emphasizes how the flashes stay with the men long after they have faded

Irony? A long march before sleep, and “distant rest” as death?

Page 7: By Wilfred Owen. WILFRED OWEN (18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918) An English poet and soldier, regarded by many as one of the leading poets of the First

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.

hyperbole introduces the extended sleep/dreamlike, surreal nature of the battle metaphor

metaphor of blood as shoe exaggerates (or conveys?) the injury of the scene

this metaphor creates the image of a stumbling man—also, the sad irony of being drunk with a lack of something

personification makes is seem as if the bombs actually have the intent to kill, not the soldiers shooting them (pathetic fallacy—even the inanimate objects are out to get you. And honestly—they’re BOMBS. They are.)

Page 8: By Wilfred Owen. WILFRED OWEN (18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918) An English poet and soldier, regarded by many as one of the leading poets of the First

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.—

Only stanza without the sleep/dream motif. This may be because this is the most active and horrific stanza of the poem—they WAKE to a nightmare. How is that for irony?

This stanza is also a fragment with a parallel series of progressive verbs to emphasize the chaotic, frenzied nature of the image.

A flounder is a fish; floundering often associated with drowning. This introduces the extended drowning simile to follow.

Page 9: By Wilfred Owen. WILFRED OWEN (18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918) An English poet and soldier, regarded by many as one of the leading poets of the First

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.

the simile creates a surreal image—slow and under water. We, the soldiers, are disoriented and powerless.

syntax: asyndeton gives the sense that all these actions are occurring simultaneously—the monster stumbles towards you in a horror movie

Page 10: By Wilfred Owen. WILFRED OWEN (18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918) An English poet and soldier, regarded by many as one of the leading poets of the First

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;

“s” consonance creates sleepy, dreamlike feeling

“YOU”--style shifts to second-person point of view to include us so that we can further empathize. (We have been put into the scene, already.)

imagery and “w” alliteration – could it even imitate the sound of the writhing, dying man?

Page 11: By Wilfred Owen. WILFRED OWEN (18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918) An English poet and soldier, regarded by many as one of the leading poets of the First

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,--

These two similes comparing war wounded to diseases help the reader relate to their maladies with civilian maladies and create a disgusted tone. They also convey the slow rotting away of war injuries—it is not a quick and clean death.

Page 12: By Wilfred Owen. WILFRED OWEN (18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918) An English poet and soldier, regarded by many as one of the leading poets of the First

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.

familiarity of second-person address helps pull us in(It is also ironic in such a nasty poem.)

The full quote resides here—WHAT is sweet and proper? Death? THIS death? Irony is bitterly revealed.

Page 13: By Wilfred Owen. WILFRED OWEN (18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918) An English poet and soldier, regarded by many as one of the leading poets of the First

Stanza StructureStanza 1: aging/fatiguing effect of drudgery. Time

is endless and there is no life outside of war.

Stanza 2: War action comes with a vengeance.

Stanza 3: Time shifts to the present, plagued by nightmares/flashbacks to the scene (there is no future outside of war).

Stanza 4: Relates to the audience and hits with a moral. Bitter.

Page 14: By Wilfred Owen. WILFRED OWEN (18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918) An English poet and soldier, regarded by many as one of the leading poets of the First

Thesis

Ultimately, our noble ideas about war are lies constructed by those who do not experience its reality: nightmarish life, ending in horrific and painful death.

Page 15: By Wilfred Owen. WILFRED OWEN (18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918) An English poet and soldier, regarded by many as one of the leading poets of the First

Now write a 3-page essay that discusses:1) metaphor2) Sound devicesas these affect meaning in the war poem

you choose. (See War Poem handout – you must have

approval for your poem from me.)