Rupert Brooke was a poet who enlisted to fight in the First World War (he died in 1915 of an infected mosquito bite before he saw any actual fighting)

World War I Poetry

Rupert Brooke (1914-1915)

Rupert Brooke was a poet who enlisted to fight in the First World War (he died in 1915 of an infected

mosquito bite before he saw any actual fighting). He is known for a series of five ‘War Sonnets’ which were

very popular during the War.

I: PeaceNow, God be thanked Who has watched us with His

hour,

And caught our youth, and wakened us from sleeping,

With hand made sure, clear eye, and sharpened

power,

To turn, as swimmers into cleanness leaping,

Glad from a world grown old and cold and weary,

Leave the sick hearts that honour could not move,

And half-men, and their dirty songs and dreary,

And all the little emptiness of love!

Oh! we, who have known shame, we have found

release there,

Where there's no ill, no grief, but sleep has mending,

Naught broken save this body, lost but breath;

Nothing to shake the laughing heart's long peace

there

But only agony, and that has ending;

And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.

Before the war, youth = “sleeping”I: Peace Going to war is

like “leaping” into clean

water.Before the war,

society was “old”, “cold” and

“weary”.If you don’t fight, you have a “sick

heart” and no “honour”

Those who don’t fight are “half-men”. Love

without honour is “empty”.

If you have “known shame”, you will redeem yourself

(make it better) by fighting.

What have you got to lose, but your life? You heart will be at peace,

and pain is only temporary.

Now, God be thanked Who has watched us with His

hour,



power,







release there,




there



I: PeaceNow, God be thanked Who has watched us with His

hour,



power,







release there,




there



1. Why do you think the poem

is called ‘Peace’?

3. What is the overall message of the poem?

2. What things are

being described in the poem?

III: The DeadBlow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead!

There's none of these so lonely and poor of old,

But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold.

These laid the world away; poured out the red

Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be

Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene,

That men call age; and those who would have

been,

Their sons, they gave, their immortality.

Blow, bugles, blow! They brought us, for our

dearth,

Holiness, lacked so long, and Love, and Pain.

Honour has come back, as a king, to earth,

And paid his subjects with a royal wage;

And Nobleness walks in our ways again;

And we have come into our heritage.

III: The DeadBlow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead!

There's none of these so lonely and poor of old,

But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold.

These laid the world away; poured out the red

Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be

Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene,

That men call age; and those who would have

been,

Their sons, they gave, their immortality.

Blow, bugles, blow! They brought us, for our

dearth,

Holiness, lacked so long, and Love, and Pain.

Honour has come back, as a king, to earth,

And paid his subjects with a royal wage;

And Nobleness walks in our ways again;

And we have come into our heritage.

1. Why do you think the poem is

called ‘The Dead’?

3. What is the overall

message of the poem?

2. What things are being

described in the poem?

4. HOW is this message

conveyed?

Wilfred Owen (1918)Wilfred Owen was a poet and soldier who fought

extensively on the Western Front during the First World War. He died on the front line exactly one week before

the 1918 armistice. While his poetry was not popular at the time, he is now seen as one of the leading poets to

write about the War.

Anthem for Doomed YouthWhat passing-bells for these who die as cattle?

Only the monstrous anger of the guns.

Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle

Can patter out their hasty orisons.

No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;

Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,

The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;

And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?

Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes

Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.

The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;

Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,

And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

Anthem for Doomed YouthThey don’t just die, they are slaughtered, like animals.

Note the personification of guns as a

‘monstrously angry’.

Quick/brief prayers.

Metaphor: the “choirs” are the

sounds the shells make as

they “wail” overhead and

explode.

They are far away from their home “shires” – there is no

comfort, no “candles”, except what they see in each

other’s “eyes”.

Metaphors. The paleness of their mothers’/wives’/ girlfriend’s faces will be like the covering of their

coffin. Their funeral “flowers” will be the

“patient minds” of those waiting for them back at

home.

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?














Alliteration – sounds like a gun

Anthem for Doomed YouthWhat passing-bells for these who die as cattle?














1. Why do you think the poem

is called ‘Anthem for Doomed

Youth’?

3. What is the overall message of the poem?

2. What things are being

described in the poem?

Du

lce E

t D

eco

rum

E

stBent 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 hootsOf gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!--An ecstasy of fumblingFitting the clumsy helmets just in time,But someone still was yelling out and stumblingAnd 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 sightHe plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could paceBehind 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 bloodCome gargling from the froth-corrupted lungsBitter as the cudOf vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--My friend, you would not tell with such high zestTo children ardent for some desperate glory,The old Lie: Dulce et decorum estPro patria mori.

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 hootsOf gas-shells dropping softly behind.


Dulce Et Decorum Est (I)



Dulce Et Decorum Est (II)

“It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s native land.”

Du

lce E

t D

eco

rum

E

stBent 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 hootsOf gas-shells dropping softly behind.




1. ‘The old lie’ translates to “it is sweet

and fitting to die for one’s native land”. Why

has Owen used this phrase?

3. What is the overall message of

the poem?

2. What things are being described in the poem? Do you need to look up

any terms?

4. HOW is this message

conveyed?

Two different views of the war…

1. What do you think the purpose of war poetry might have been?

2. What differences are there between Brooke’s and Owen’s poetry?

3. Why do you think there is such a vast difference?

4. Why do you think one poet (Brooke) was more popular at the time, given that the intended audience was back in Britain?

Entry 1: Early in the war (December 1914) What do they think war is going to be like? Use Rupert Brooke’s poetry to help you.

Entry 2: During the war (1917) What do they now think of war now they have seen what

it’s like? Use Wilfred Owen’s poetry to help you.

Entry 3: After the war (December 1918) How are Alec/Don coping now that the war is over? Use the 23 December diary entry in A Different Sort of

Real to help you.

Your Task : Write 3 Diary Entries

Choose either Alec (Charlotte’s father) or Uncle Donald, and write three diary entries (approx. 100

words each) in which you discuss their experiences and thoughts about the Great War.

Documents

Rupert Brooke was a poet who enlisted to fight in the First World War (he died in 1915 of an infected mosquito bite before he saw any actual fighting)