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War poetry nov 16 em

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Michael Dawes
Michael Dawes

The document contains 3 poems about World War I. The first poem "In The Trenches" describes a soldier giving his friend a poppy before being killed by an explosion. The second poem "Futility" is about a soldier who has been killed and questions whether it was worth waking him from death. The third and final poem "Ode of Remembrance" honors soldiers who fought bravely and died young in battle, and promises that they will be remembered.

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War poetry nov 16 em
War poetry nov 16 em
War poetry nov 16 em
War poetry nov 16 em
In The Trenches Isaac Rosenberg I snatched two poppies From the parapets ledge, Two bright red poppies That winked on the ledge. Behind my ear I stuck one through, One blood red poppy I gave to you. The sandbags narrowed And screwed out our jest, And tore the poppy You had on your breast ... Down - a shell - O! Christ, I am choked ... safe ... dust blind, I See trench floor poppies Strewn. Smashed you lie.
Futility Wilfred Owen Move him into the sun - Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of fields unsown. Always it woke him, even in France, Until this morning and this snow. If anything might rouse him now The kind old sun will know. Think how it wakes the seeds - Woke, once, the clays of a cold star. Are limbs so dear-achieved, are sides Full-nerved, - still warm, - too hard to stir? Was it for this the clay grew tall? - O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earths sleep at all?
Ode of Remembrance They went with songs to the battle, they were young. Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow. They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted, They fell with their faces to the foe. They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning, We will remember them. They mingle not with their laughing comrades again; They sit no more at familiar tables of home; They have no lot in our labour of the day-time; They sleep beyond England's foam. We will remember them.
War poetry nov 16 em
War poetry nov 16 em

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War poetry nov 16 em

  • 5. In The Trenches Isaac Rosenberg I snatched two poppies From the parapets ledge, Two bright red poppies That winked on the ledge. Behind my ear I stuck one through, One blood red poppy I gave to you. The sandbags narrowed And screwed out our jest, And tore the poppy You had on your breast ... Down - a shell - O! Christ, I am choked ... safe ... dust blind, I See trench floor poppies Strewn. Smashed you lie.
  • 6. Futility Wilfred Owen Move him into the sun - Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of fields unsown. Always it woke him, even in France, Until this morning and this snow. If anything might rouse him now The kind old sun will know. Think how it wakes the seeds - Woke, once, the clays of a cold star. Are limbs so dear-achieved, are sides Full-nerved, - still warm, - too hard to stir? Was it for this the clay grew tall? - O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earths sleep at all?
  • 7. Ode of Remembrance They went with songs to the battle, they were young. Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow. They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted, They fell with their faces to the foe. They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning, We will remember them. They mingle not with their laughing comrades again; They sit no more at familiar tables of home; They have no lot in our labour of the day-time; They sleep beyond England's foam. We will remember them.