Poets of the Great War

Poets of the Great War By Ms Stubbs Downloaded from www.SchoolHistory.co.uk

“Above all I am not concerned with Poetry. My subject is War, and the pity of War… Yet these elegies are to this generation in no sense consolatory… All a poet can do today is warn. That is why true Poetsmust be truthful.” Wilfred Owen, from a preface to a planned book of his poetry.

“It's a sinTo say that Hell is hot ~ 'cause it's not:Mind you, I know very well we're in hell.” from The Mad Soldier by Edward Tennant

Alec de Candole (1897-1918) Alec left college in April 1916 to enlist. He was commissioned in the 4th Wiltshire Regiment and sent to Flanders in April, 1917. He was wounded in October 1917 but returned to Belgium in July 1918. On 4 September the Battalion Diary recorded that Alec de Candole was killed in a bombing raid. Two days before he died he wrote this poem…

When the Last Long Trek is OverWhen the last long trek is over,And the last long trench filled in,I’ll take a boat to Dover,Away from all the din;I’ll take a trip to Mendip,I’ll see the Wiltshire downs,And all my soul I’ll then dipIn peace no trouble drowns.

Away from noise of battle,Away from bombs and shells,I’ll lie where browse the cattle,Or pluck the purple bells.I’ll lie among the heather,And watch the distant plain,Through all the summer weather,Nor go to fight again.

Edward “Bim” Tennant (1897-1916) Killed at the Somme.

THE MAD SOLDIER I dropp'd here three weeks ago, yes ~ I know,And it's bitter cold at night, since the fight ~ I could tell you if I chose ~ no one knowsExcep' me and four or five, what ain't aliveI can see them all asleep, three men deep,And they're nowhere near a fire ~ but our wireHas 'em fast as fast can be. Can't you seeWhen the flare goes up? Ssh! Boys; what's that noise?

Do you know what these rats eat? Body-meat!After you've been down a week, 'an your cheekGets as pale as life, and night seems as whiteAs the day, only the rats and their bratsSeem more hungry when the day's gone away ~ An' they look as big as bulls, an' they pullsTill you almost sort o' shout ~ but the droughtWhat you hadn't felt before makes you sore.And at times you even think of a drink...

There's a leg across my thighs ~ if my eyesWeren't too sore, I'd like to see who it be,Wonder if I'd know the bloke if I woke? ~ Woke? By damn, I'm not asleep ~ there's a heapOf us wond'ring why the hell we're not well...Leastways I am ~ since I came it's the sameWith the others ~ they don't know what I do,Or they wouldn't gape and grin.

It's a sinTo say that Hell is hot ~ 'cause it's not:Mind you, I know very well we're in hell.~ In a twisted hump we lie ~ heaping highYes! an' higher every day. ~ Oh, I say,This chap's heavy on my thighs ~ damn his eyes.

Drummer Hodge Thomas Hardy They throw in Drummer Hodge, to rest Uncoffined – just as found:His landmark is a kopje-crest That breaks the veldt around;And foreign constellations west Each night above his mound.

Young Hodge the Drummer never knew – Fresh from his Wessex home –The meaning of the broad Karoo, The Bush, the dusty loam,And why uprose to nightly view Strange stars amid the gloam.Yet portion of that unknown plain Will Hodge forever be;His homely Northern breast and brain Grow to some Southern tree,And strange-eyed constellation reign His stars eternally.

"If I live, I mean to spend the rest of my life working for perpetual peace. I have seen war and faced modern artillery and know what an outrage it is against simple men." Tom Kettle, Irish Poet, killed at the Somme 1916

Leslie Coulson, Poet 1889 – 1916 killed at the Somme

POETS of the GREAT WAR • Using Poetry to find out about the War • Choose a poem from the sheet provided and read it carefully. • Write the name of the poem and the poet in your exercise book as a title. • How does the poem make you feel? Happy, sad, upset, proud…? • What is happening in the poem? • What does the poem tell you about the War? • Evaluate the poem – is it useful? Why? • Is it biased? How?

Poets of the Great War