In tribute to all those who have given their life in defence of England and of the rest of the UK.
***
"Anthem for Doomed Youth" by Wilfred Owen.
What 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 goodbyes.
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.
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I love Wilfred Owen's poetry for it's ability to speak honest truths about the futility and insanity of war. Yet it seems like Anthem is always the 'go-to' piece when introducing people to his poetry for the first time. it was the only poem of his we covered for English lit when I attended high school and based on how newspaper editorials and the general population talk of him you'd think it was his best work. It's not in my opinion, not even close.
Don't get me wrong, it's a wonderful poem by any measure, but compared to his other work it's probably the most tame. It's heavy use of archaic words also I think makes it very inaccessible to most young school kids who will have a hard time grasping the almost abstract image it's trying to create. Compare, for instance, it's rather muted words and message to that of far darker poems like The Send Off, Parable of the Old Man and the Young, S.I.W, and Disabled.
Compared to Anthem, these poems provide a far darker and pessimistic view of the futility of war, the hypocrisy of stay-at-home patriots and "the old lie that it is sweet and noble to die for your country". You could maybe even see them as a rebellion against the notion of patriotism and the lies we tell our youth to make it easier for them to slaughter each other. A part of me almost wants to believe that it's a conspiracy whereby 'they' don't want their government approved textbooks to be too frank about the reality of war. "No, this is too much for a schoolkid to handle, how can we expect anyone to volunteer for the next war if this is the kind of thing they're reading in school" - Some government bureaucratic probably.
Does anyone else feel the same about this? What are your thoughts on comparing Anthem to the other works I listed?
Also, I know that Dulce et Decorum est also tends to get a lot of mention when talking about Wilfred Owen's poetry and it's definitely very bleak. His other stuff rarely gets a mention though and I believe it should.
Really, really, really excited about this one. My absolute favourite band from my teens. I hope it's good, going by the singles it shouldn't be too much of a disappointment.
Also second libs post today.
What 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 goodbyes.
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.
What 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 goodbyes.
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.
What 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 goodbyes.
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
..
r/poetryghost
...
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47393/anthem-for-doomed-youth
What 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 goodbyes.
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.
Because that sestet is haunted, man.
***
Anthem for Doomed Youth
What 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 goodbyes.
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.
What 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 goodbyes.
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.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZlDoon91vZk
The text of the poem:
What 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.
