1B War Poem Timing

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Dulce Et Decorum Est (It is sweet and right to die for your country):

Dulce Et Decorum Est (It is sweet and right to die for your country) By Wilfred Owen

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Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knocked-kneed, Coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And toward our distant rest began to trudge.

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Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;

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Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of tired, outstripped Five-Nine’s that dropped behind.

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Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! -- An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling

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And floundering 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.

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In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dream you too could pace

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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;

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If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

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Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,-- My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent with some desperate glory,

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The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.