Project #97952 - War Poetry Writing

Please use the two that follow and that are mentioned in the assignment. disregard the last 9 lines on the assignment page.

Dulce et Decorum Est

Wilfred Owen, 1893 - 1918

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!â€â€Â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,â€â€Â
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.

"Before Action"

By all the glories of the day
And the cool evening's benison
By that last sunset touch that lay
Upon the hills when day was done,
By beauty lavishly outpoured
And blessings carelessly received,
By all the days that I have lived
Make me a soldier, O Lord.
By all of all man's hopes and fears
And all the wonders poets sing,
The laughter of unclouded years,
And every sad and lovely thing;
By the romantic ages stored
With high endeavour that was his,
By all his mad catastrophes
Make me a man, O Lord.
I, that on my familiar hill
Saw with uncomprehending eyes
A hundred of thy sunsets spill
Their fresh and sanguine sacrifice,
Ere the sun swings his noonday sword
Must say good-bye to all of this; –
By all delights that I shall miss,
Help me to die, O Lord.

Subject English
Due By (Pacific Time) 12/04/2015 09:00 am
Report DMCA
TutorRating
pallavi

Chat Now!

out of 1971 reviews
More..
amosmm

Chat Now!

out of 766 reviews
More..
PhyzKyd

Chat Now!

out of 1164 reviews
More..
rajdeep77

Chat Now!

out of 721 reviews
More..
sctys

Chat Now!

out of 1600 reviews
More..
sharadgreen

Chat Now!

out of 770 reviews
More..
topnotcher

Chat Now!

out of 766 reviews
More..
XXXIAO

Chat Now!

out of 680 reviews
More..
All Rights Reserved. Copyright by AceMyHW.com - Copyright Policy