Dulce et Decorum est

the view of a gas mask on a wall, reminded me of the poem by owen, "dulce et decorum est"

(It is sweet and fitting)

 

 

DULCE ET DECORUM EST1

 

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

Till on the haunting flares2 we turned our backs

And towards our distant rest3 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 hoots4

Of tired, outstripped5 Five-Nines6 that dropped behind.

 

Gas!7 Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,

Fitting the clumsy helmets8 just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,

And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime9 . . .

Dim, through the misty panes10 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,11 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 cud12

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest13

To children ardent14 for some desperate glory,

The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est

Pro patria mori.15

 

 

Done