Dulce Et Decorum Est Poem by Wilfred Owen

Dulce Et Decorum Est

Rating: 4.2


Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned out 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 gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! - 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,-
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.

Dulce Et Decorum Est
Tuesday, December 31, 2002
Topic(s) of this poem: war
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Pussy Hunter 30 August 2015

Swiggedy Swooty im stalking the booty

70 97 Reply
Gertrude Christifanish 21 September 2015

Yes please

0 0 Reply
Gertrude Christifanish 21 September 2015

Yes Please 8=============D

0 0 Reply
Tuffsnotenuff Y''all 23 April 2012

This poem moved me to sign up for 4 years in the Navy instead of doing Vietnam in the Army. As a guess that was the largest life-or-death choice of this life. On a Ten Scale, give this poem a 12. 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, .... Knock-out! Never to be forgotten, never to be set aside as our core understanding of war's madness.

72 50 Reply
Arab 13 October 2021

Yeah Wilford Owen really gets my hard too

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Brook Renwick 27 January 2022

Were our wars really necessary? Call me naïve but this poem is exactly why war should have been avoided. Some politicians at the time believed it was necessary but that same politician did not hold a gun and experience this.

1 0 Reply
MAHTAB BANGALEE 27 January 2022

In all my dreams before my helpless sight He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.//// life is obstructed eveywhere

0 0 Reply
Rose Marie Juan-austin 24 September 2021

A moving, powerful and deeply poignant poem woven beautifully.

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Dr Dillip K Swain 18 August 2021

A brilliant poem....top score

0 0 Reply
Sylvia Frances Chan 18 August 2021

Poems such as 'Dulce Decorum Est' and 'Anthem for doomed Youth' have done much to influence our attitudes towards war. Amazing poem! He had a tragic life.Very sad he died young during the War (In France at the Somme river)

0 0 Reply
Wilfred Owen

Wilfred Owen

Shropshire / England
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