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Futility

Futility (noun) = uselessness / pointlessness / senselessness . Futility. By Wilfred Owen. Futility… WWI. Soldiers in WWI (German and British) who have frozen to death. Futility in WWI. Key Vocabulary. More key vocabulary…. Read the text. Futility Move him into the sun—

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Futility

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  1. Futility (noun) = uselessness / pointlessness / senselessness Futility By Wilfred Owen

  2. Futility… WWI Soldiers in WWI (German and British) who have frozen to death

  3. Futility in WWI

  4. Key Vocabulary

  5. More key vocabulary…

  6. Read the text Futility Move him into the sun— Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of fields unsown. Always it awoke him, even in France, Until this morning and this snow. If anything might rouse him now The kind old sun will know. Think how it wakes the seeds— Woke, once, the clays of a cold star. Are limbs so dear-achieved, are sides Full-nerved,- still warm,- too hard to stir? Was it for this the clay grew tall? - O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earth's sleep at all?

  7. imperative 2. Copy the poem. 3. Find an example of each of these 10 language features and label: • imperative • personification • repetition • rhyme • rhetorical question • metaphor • parallel construction • antithesis • caesura • enjambement Futility Move him into the sun— Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of fields unsown. Always it awoke him, even in France, Until this morning and this snow. If anything might rouse him now The kind old sun will know. Think how it wakes the seeds— Woke, once, the clays of a cold star. Are limbs so dear-achieved, are sides Full-nerved,- still warm,- too hard to stir? Was it for this the clay grew tall? - O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earth's sleep at all? By Wilfred Owen

  8. Futility Move him into the sun— Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of fields unsown. Always it awoke him, even in France, Until this morning and this snow. If anything might rouse him now The kind old sun will know. Think how it wakes the seeds— Woke, once, the clays of a cold star. Are limbs so dear-achieved, are sides Full-nerved,- still warm,- too hard to stir? Was it for this the clay grew tall? - O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earth's sleep at all? 4. It is a sonnet.

  9. rhetorical questions. Futility Move him into the sun— Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of fields unsown. Always it awoke him, even in France, Until this morning and this snow. If anything might rouse him now The kind old sun will know. Think how it wakes the seeds— Woke, once, the clays of a cold star. Are limbs so dear-achieved, are sides Full-nerved,- still warm,- too hard to stir? Was it for this the clay grew tall? - O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earth's sleep at all?

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