Dulce Et Decorum Est- Wilfred Owen

Dulce Et Decorum Est

By: Wilfred Owen

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 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.



One of my favorite poems. The Imagery that Wilfred Owen uses in this poem is astonishing. When you see words like guttering, chocking, drowning, plunges, and sludge you see the soldiers drowning in the water and crawling through mud and sludge. When you see bent double, hanging face like a devils sick of sin, limped, blood shod, and marched asleep you see the image of soldiers being worn down and physically harmed. This poem gives you a greater respect for the soldiers because they have to deal with all of these things. Wilfred Owen tells people in this poem that it is not all it is hyped up to be to serve your country. He cringes at the fact that children want the glory of war when there are true horrors not being shown. Dulce de decorum est sounds nice until you translate it and read the poem.