Dulce Et Decorum Est
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
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.
GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,
the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
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,
face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of 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 est
Move him into the sun--
Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields
Always it woke him, even in France,
Until this morning and this snow.
If anything might rouse him now
kind old sun will know.
Think how it wakes the seeds,--
Woke, once, the clays of a cold star.
Are limbs, so dear-achieved,
Full-nerved-- still warm,-- too hard to stir?
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
-- O what made fatuous
To break earth's sleep at all?
The Parable of the Old Man and the Young
So Abram rose, and clave the wood, and went,
And took the fire with him, and a knife.
they sojourned both of them together,
Isaac the first-born spake and said, My Father,
Behold the preparations, fire
But where the lamb for this burnt-offering?
Then Abram bound the youth with belts and strops,
parapets and trenches there,
And stretched forth the knife to slay his son.
When lo! an angel called him out of heaven,
Lay not thy hand upon the lad,
Neither do anything to him. Behold,
A ram, caught in a thicket by its horns;
the Ram of Pride instead of him.
But the old man would not so, but slew his son,
And half the seed of Europe, one