Presentation by: Kim Dalve, Sam Lucas, Zach Gray, & Bruce Greer

Dulce Et Decorum EstBent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,Till on the haunting flares we turned our backsAnd towards our distant rest began to trudge.

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

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hootsOf disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumblingAnd floundering like a man in fire or lime.--

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green lightAs 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 paceBehind 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,Obscene as cancer, 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.

The speaker is a first-hand witness to this event. He is

recalling it. He is a soldier in this war. He was able to get his gas mask on in time. He was greatly affected by what

happened. It stays with him in his dreams. This could

indicate that he may have post traumatic stress disorder. He is cynical on how war is being

shown to the youth.W

arD

reams

Cynical

Dulce Et Decorum EstBent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,Till on the haunting flares we turned our backsAnd towards our distant rest began to trudge.

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

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hootsOf disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumblingAnd floundering like a man in fire or lime.--

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green lightAs 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 paceBehind 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,Obscene as cancer, 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.

The poem takes place during World War I. Gas

was used widely. The speaker is talking in first

person. In the plural form “we” and in the

singular form “I” in the last lines of the second stanza and the third. He is a first-hand witness.

Dulce Et Decorum EstBent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,Till on the haunting flares we turned our backsAnd towards our distant rest began to trudge.

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

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hootsOf disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumblingAnd floundering like a man in fire or lime.--

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green lightAs 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 paceBehind 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,Obscene as cancer, 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.

The audience are those who may believe this lie of war being glorious. The speaker tells his

story in order to disprove and question

this.

Latin for: “How sweet & becoming to die for one’s

country.”

-Impaired Movement

-Disgusting details-Horrifying Actions

-Green

-Ways to Die

-Sleep

-Sight

-Youth

-Sound

-Water

-Dreams-Glory

-Body Parts

-Depressing/Somber

Dulce Et Decorum Est Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,Till on the haunting flares we turned our backsAnd towards our distant rest began to trudge.Men marched asleep. Many had lost their bootsBut limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hootsOf disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;But someone still was yelling out and stumblingAnd floundering like a man in fire or lime.--Dim, through the misty panes and thick green lightAs 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 paceBehind 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 bloodCome gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cudOf vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--My friend, you would not tell with such high zestTo children ardent for some desperate glory,The old Lie: Dulce et decorum estPro patria mori.

Dulce Et Decorum EstBent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,Till on the haunting flares we turned our backsAnd towards our distant rest began to trudge.

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

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hootsOf disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumblingAnd floundering like a man in fire or lime.--

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green lightAs 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 paceBehind 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,Obscene as cancer, 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.

The imagery uses the senses to create a full picture and vicarious

experience.

War

Sickness

Disappointment/ Disenchantment

Dulce Et Decorum EstBent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,Till on the haunting flares we turned our backsAnd towards our distant rest began to trudge.

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

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hootsOf disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumblingAnd floundering like a man in fire or lime.--

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green lightAs 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 paceBehind 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,Obscene as cancer, 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.

Similes

Metaphors

Personification

The degree of fatigue

Journey toward death

Eyes being blinded by gas

refers to calcium hydroxide, if ingested

internal bleeding, skeletal paralysis, …

Dulce Et Decorum EstBent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,Till on the haunting flares we turned our backsAnd towards our distant rest began to trudge.

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

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hootsOf disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumblingAnd floundering like a man in fire or lime.--

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green lightAs 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 paceBehind 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,Obscene as cancer, 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.

A shift occurs here. The tired, worn out

soldiers quickly become enthusiastic &

active.

This event is very significant to the speaker. It remains engrained in their

mind. It is a frightening, depressing, and traumatic experience. The speaker is critical on the view of war.

For the next several lines the

first person singular “I” is

used. For this line and

the last three lines the second person “you” is used. This is to have the reader

become attached to the

poem and

affected by it.

Dulce Et Decorum EstBent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,Till on the haunting flares we turned our backsAnd towards our distant rest began to trudge.

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

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hootsOf disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumblingAnd floundering like a man in fire or lime.--

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green lightAs 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 paceBehind 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,Obscene as cancer, 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.

The punctuation in this poem is very much like a narrative. Unlike a lot of

poetry that sounds lyrical. Commas and

periods are used frequently. The poem is

divided into four stanzas. Exclamations are used in

the second stanza. These exclamations

points heighten the shift in tone from a slow, sad

memoir to an action-packed violent event.

Dulce Et Decorum EstBent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,Till on the haunting flares we turned our backsAnd towards our distant rest began to trudge.

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

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hootsOf disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumblingAnd floundering like a man in fire or lime.--

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green lightAs 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 paceBehind 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,Obscene as cancer, 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.

The poem is divided into four un-even stanzas.

End rhyme is exhibited. It is in an ABAB, CDCD, etc. pattern. The poem does not follow iambic pentameter. Though it rhymes, it is not lyrical. This could refer to the content. War is not like music. It isn’t beautiful.

1

2

3

4

The purpose is to show the speaker’s reality of war. It is to show the youth that it is not a

romantic tale of heroism to be in war. It is a gruesome, tragic

experience that will never go away. The glory earned in war comes at a

tremendous price.