Dulce Et Decorum Est
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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
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