WW1? The economic loss was 180 billion. 70millions soldiers took part. Ended by an armistice. Half the people who died are in an unmarked grave

Transcription

1 The economic loss was 180 billion Christmas Day the war stopped & they played football. Known as the war to end all wars Half the people who died are in an unmarked grave 1000 New Zealanders died in Gallipolli Half the soldiers that fought either died, were wounded or became prisioners of war WW1? Allies vs Central Power End of the war resulted in the treaty of Versailles When WW1 finished, alot of the boundaries had changed 70millions soldiers took part. Woman would hand men a white feather in the streets to force them to enlist Ended by an armistice Pooh Bear was the Canadian WW1 Mascott In 6 months, France lost more people than America has lost in the whole of the 20th century (army) 1

2 Australia New Zealand army corps Gallipolli Anzac day Begun with tension in the late 1800s musturd gas and chlorine gas Dawn services WW1? big failure Poppies At the start everyone was very naive, thought it was going to be a good time Went up the water way the dardenelles? America wasnt initially going to join Was called the great war or the war to end all wars 2

3 Useful Words For the following words, write what you think the definition is. If unsure, look in the dictionary. These 3 words will be vital in your discussion of the poems to be studied this year. patriotism propaganda honour 3

4 12eng Propaganda posters Look at the underlying message, what did it mean if you: Stay at home? coward you should feel guilty you're selfish people will think less of you and your family separation from your country excluded women allowed to adopt masculine roles embarrassment to your family your loyalty to your country will be questioned ignoring your duty shameful people wouldn't respect you any more Go to war? more honourable upholding justice patriotic they will have fun courageous you will become a skilled tradesmen get something out of it. get respect from your family makes you known as a brave person make friends included in society, part of the us might as well be in the front line because you may be lucky enough to die. part of the solution make your family name and your family proud guaranteed a place in heaven meet expectations. 4

5 Trench Clip Describe what it must have been like for the soldiers in your own words: Battle of the Somme 5

6 12eng2 The Soldier by Rupert Brooke If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, A body of England's, breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home. And think, this heart, all evil shed away, A pulse in the eternal mind, no less Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given; Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day; And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness, In hearts at peace, under an English heaven. Rupert Brooke,

7 12eng2 The Soldier by Rupert Brooke If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, A body of England's, breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home. And think, this heart, all evil shed away, A pulse in the eternal mind, no less Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given; Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day; And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness, In hearts at peace, under an English heaven. Rupert Brooke,

8 12eng2 The Soldier by Rupert Brooke If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, A body of England's, breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home. And think, this heart, all evil shed away, A pulse in the eternal mind, no less Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given; Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day; And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness, In hearts at peace, under an English heaven. Rupert Brooke,

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11 Disabled Wilfred Owen Close Reading Questions: 1. Read through the poem to yourself 2. Look up any unfamiliar words in the dictionary 3. Write down your initial reaction to the poem 4. Write down what we know about the soldier's life before and after the war. Use quotes to support what you are saying: Past Present 5. Compare and contrast the welcome the man gets for the football game and when he returns home: Rugby Game War Welcome 6. What reasons did he have for going to war? 7. What role does sleep play in this poem? 8. Find at least 4 language techniques: technique example why used 11

12 Wilfred Owen Disabled He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark, And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey, Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn, Voices of play and pleasure after day, Till gathering sleep had mothered them from him. About this time Town used to swing so gay When glow lamps budded in the light blue trees And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim, In the old times, before he threw away his knees. Now he will never feel again how slim Girls' waists are, or how warm their subtle hands, All of them touch him like some queer disease. There was an artist silly for his face, For it was younger than his youth, last year. Now he is old; his back will never brace; He's lost his colour very far from here, Poured it down shell holes till the veins ran dry, And half his lifetime lapsed in the hot race, And leap of purple spurted from his thigh. One time he liked a bloodsmear down his leg, After the matches carried shoulder high. It was after football, when he'd drunk a peg, He thought he'd better join. He wonders why... Someone had said he'd look a god in kilts. That's why; and maybe, too, to please his Meg, Aye, that was it, to please the giddy jilts, He asked to join. He didn't have to beg; Smiling they wrote his lie; aged nineteen years. Germans he scarcely thought of; and no fears Of Fear came yet. He thought of jewelled hilts For daggers in plaid socks; of smart salutes; And care of arms; and leave; and pay arrears; Esprit de corps; and hints for young recruits. And soon, he was drafted out with drums and cheers. Some cheered him home, but not as crowds cheer Goal. Only a solemn man who brought him fruits Thanked him; and then inquired about his soul. Now, he will spend a few sick years in Institutes, And do what things the rules consider wise, And take whatever pity they may dole. To night he noticed how the women's eyes Passed from him to the strong men that were whole. How cold and late it is! Why don't they come And put him into bed? Why don't they come? 12

13 Wilfred Owen Disabled He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark, And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey, Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn, Voices of play and pleasure after day, Till gathering sleep had mothered them from him. About this time Town used to swing so gay When glow lamps budded in the light blue trees And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim, In the old times, before he threw away his knees. Now he will never feel again how slim Girls' waists are, or how warm their subtle hands, All of them touch him like some queer disease. There was an artist silly for his face, For it was younger than his youth, last year. Now he is old; his back will never brace; He's lost his colour very far from here, Poured it down shell holes till the veins ran dry, And half his lifetime lapsed in the hot race, And leap of purple spurted from his thigh. One time he liked a bloodsmear down his leg, After the matches carried shoulder high. It was after football, when he'd drunk a peg, He thought he'd better join. He wonders why... Someone had said he'd look a god in kilts. That's why; and maybe, too, to please his Meg, Aye, that was it, to please the giddy jilts, He asked to join. He didn't have to beg; Smiling they wrote his lie; aged nineteen years. Germans he scarcely thought of; and no fears Of Fear came yet. He thought of jewelled hilts For daggers in plaid socks; of smart salutes; And care of arms; and leave; and pay arrears; Esprit de corps; and hints for young recruits. And soon, he was drafted out with drums and cheers. Some cheered him home, but not as crowds cheer Goal. Only a solemn man who brought him fruits Thanked him; and then inquired about his soul. Now, he will spend a few sick years in Institutes, And do what things the rules consider wise, And take whatever pity they may dole. To night he noticed how the women's eyes Passed from him to the strong men that were whole. How cold and late it is! Why don't they come And put him into bed? Why don't they come? 13

14 Wilfred Owen Disabled He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark, And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey, Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn, Voices of play and pleasure after day, Till gathering sleep had mothered them from him. About this time Town used to swing so gay When glow lamps budded in the light blue trees And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim, In the old times, before he threw away his knees. Now he will never feel again how slim Girls' waists are, or how warm their subtle hands, All of them touch him like some queer disease. There was an artist silly for his face, For it was younger than his youth, last year. Now he is old; his back will never brace; He's lost his colour very far from here, Poured it down shell holes till the veins ran dry, And half his lifetime lapsed in the hot race, And leap of purple spurted from his thigh. One time he liked a bloodsmear down his leg, After the matches carried shoulder high. It was after football, when he'd drunk a peg, He thought he'd better join. He wonders why... Someone had said he'd look a god in kilts. That's why; and maybe, too, to please his Meg, Aye, that was it, to please the giddy jilts, He asked to join. He didn't have to beg; Smiling they wrote his lie; aged nineteen years. Germans he scarcely thought of; and no fears Of Fear came yet. He thought of jewelled hilts For daggers in plaid socks; of smart salutes; And care of arms; and leave; and pay arrears; Esprit de corps; and hints for young recruits. And soon, he was drafted out with drums and cheers. Some cheered him home, but not as crowds cheer Goal. Only a solemn man who brought him fruits Thanked him; and then inquired about his soul. Now, he will spend a few sick years in Institutes, And do what things the rules consider wise, And take whatever pity they may dole. To night he noticed how the women's eyes Passed from him to the strong men that were whole. How cold and late it is! Why don't they come And put him into bed? Why don't they come? 14

15 Wilfred Owen Disabled He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark, And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey, Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn, Voices of play and pleasure after day, Till gathering sleep had mothered them from him. About this time Town used to swing so gay When glow lamps budded in the light blue trees And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim, In the old times, before he threw away his knees. Now he will never feel again how slim Girls' waists are, or how warm their subtle hands, All of them touch him like some queer disease. There was an artist silly for his face, For it was younger than his youth, last year. Now he is old; his back will never brace; He's lost his colour very far from here, Poured it down shell holes till the veins ran dry, And half his lifetime lapsed in the hot race, And leap of purple spurted from his thigh. One time he liked a bloodsmear down his leg, After the matches carried shoulder high. It was after football, when he'd drunk a peg, He thought he'd better join. He wonders why... Someone had said he'd look a god in kilts. That's why; and maybe, too, to please his Meg, Aye, that was it, to please the giddy jilts, He asked to join. He didn't have to beg; Smiling they wrote his lie; aged nineteen years. Germans he scarcely thought of; and no fears Of Fear came yet. He thought of jewelled hilts For daggers in plaid socks; of smart salutes; And care of arms; and leave; and pay arrears; Esprit de corps; and hints for young recruits. And soon, he was drafted out with drums and cheers. Some cheered him home, but not as crowds cheer Goal. Only a solemn man who brought him fruits Thanked him; and then inquired about his soul. Now, he will spend a few sick years in Institutes, And do what things the rules consider wise, And take whatever pity they may dole. To night he noticed how the women's eyes Passed from him to the strong men that were whole. How cold and late it is! Why don't they come And put him into bed? Why don't they come? 15

16 eng1 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 backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of gas shells dropping softly behind. Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time: But someone still was yelling out and stumbling, And flound'ring 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. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace 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; 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. 16

17 eng1 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 backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of gas shells dropping softly behind. Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time: But someone still was yelling out and stumbling, And flound'ring 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. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace 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; 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. 17

18 eng2 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 backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of gas shells dropping softly behind. Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time: But someone still was yelling out and stumbling, And flound'ring 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. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace 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; 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. 18

19 Traditional Viewpoint The Soldier death is a honourable and glorious thing COMPARISON TABLE Realist Viewpoint Dulce Et/ Disabled Death is slow, painful, gruesome... traumatising for those who live "white eyes writhing" "blood come gargling from froth corrupted lungs" you will be remembered forever patriotic feelings -no one cares about you "he noticed how the women's eyes passed from him to the..." "Some cheered him home, but not as crowds cheer goal. Only a solemn man" also remembered in a negative light in the tormented dreams of fellow soldiers "The old Lie" condemning the propaganda message of the government war is a wonderful opportunity NO! You die, it destroys you mentally and physically. Hence, war "kills you" no control over your life. "He will spend a few sick years in Institutes and do what things the rules consider wise" "Knock kneed coughing like hags" a way of redeeming your sins/ idea of guilt young old naive, innocent children become "guilty" by experience "his hanging face like a Devil's sick of sin" 19

20 Traditional Viewpoint The Soldier death is a honourable and glorious thing COMPARISON TABLE Realist Viewpoint Dulce Et/ Disabled you will be remembered forever patriotic feelings war is a wonderful opportunity a way of redeeming your sins/ idea of guilt 20

21 Homework: Essay on short texts poetry. Your choice of 2008 questions. Would prefer it Friday or ed to me on the weekend, last resort Monday. After that I will not be marking it!! 21

22 Something to get us thinking about WAR and what it may mean or symbolise... Think about what attitudes, values, expectations, reasonings you would find to justify either end (and the middle) of this opinion cline on war. positive Write as many words and phrases that you can think of along the cline. negative 22

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24 WW1? 24

25 Useful Words For the following words, write what you think the definition is. If unsure, look in the dictionary. These 3 words will be vital in your discussion of the poems to be studied this year. patriotism propaganda honour 25

26 MUSTARD GAS could take hours to take effect yellow brown in colour smelled like mustard plants e.g. horseradish, hence the name stayed in the soil for weeks usually victims took 4 5 weeks to die (only 1% lethal though, more a deterrent) effects blistered skin, sore eyes(blindness), vomiting, internal and external bleeding, affected the bronchial tubes masks not effective could absorb it through the skin SHELL SHOCK resulted from stress of battle symptoms fatigue, confusion, anxiety, tics, cramps, blindness, vivid nightmares, even when awake!! 26

27 Propaganda posters Look at the underlying message, what did it mean if you: Stay at home? Go to war? 27

28 12eng Propaganda posters Look at the underlying message, what did it mean if you: Stay at home? coward you should feel guilty you're selfish people will think less of you and your family separation from your country excluded women allowed to adopt masculine roles embarrassment to your family your loyalty to your country will be questioned ignoring your duty shameful people wouldn't respect you any more Go to war? more honourable upholding justice patriotic they will have fun courageous you will become a skilled tradesmen get something out of it. get respect from your family makes you known as a brave person make friends included in society, part of the us might as well be in the front line because you may be lucky enough to die. part of the solution make your family name and your family proud guaranteed a place in heaven meet expectations. 28

29 Trench Clip Describe what it must have been like for the soldiers in your own words: Battle of the Somme 29

30 Rupert Brooke ( ) It is best to think of Brooke as a pre war poet, as he never really encountered war first hand. He has a naieve/innocent outlook on the war. He only wrote 5 sonnets, "The Soldier" being the last one. His sonnets focus on the themes of maturity, purpose and romantic death. His poetry is very romantic/traditional in style (strict metre and form, iambic metre rhyme scheme) He was enthusiastic about the noble ideals of honour, chivalry and patriotism. The young men of 1914 were in a hurry to die in a noble cause. War was not a wasteful tragedy that would rob them of their lives and talents, but rather a way to make an honorable sacrifice. The sonnets seem old fashioned and self righteous because they reflect the unrealistic attitudes of the time over optimistic and sentimental. 30

31 Wilfred Owen ( ) killed in WW1 action, at Sambre Canal, France. Owen is primarily remembered for his realistic protest poems inspired by his experiences at the Western Front in 1916 and he sought to present the grim realities of warfare and its effects on the human spirit. there is a prominent note of social protest in his works. he suffered shell shock after several months at the front. While in a war hospital recovering, he met Siegfried Sassoon, another poet, who encouraged him to write about his experiences through poetry. he was killed one week before the Armistice. he saw himself as giving voice to the infantryman who couldn't articulate their experiences. many of his poems assail poets in England who continued to write conventional verses promoting the traditional values of wartime heroism and the appropriateness of dying in battle on behalf of one's country. a quote from Owen in a planned preface to a book of poems: "This book is not about heroes. My subject is War, and the pity of war. I am not concerned with Poetry. The Poetry is in the Pity. Yet these elegies are to this generation in no sense consolatory. They may be to the next. All a poet can do today is to warn." 31

32 DISABLED WILFRED OWEN about the unseen, mental torment of war the notion of unseen scars is put forward the soldiers life (and all soldiers) will never be the same sleep is not seen as bad (as in Dulce et), but rather as a release from the torment of what life is like now Stanza 1 Sets the scene, the soldier has returned home. The idea of sleep as a protector of some kind introduced. Stanza 2 Thinks back to what life was like before he lost his legs. Forevermore will not be seen the same, girls view him as different, he will never be close with another again. Stanza 3 How he lost his life, youth and innocence to the war. A complete reversal from how he used to be. Stanza 4 How he came to join the war vanity his main motivation, and to please the girls! (Who now avoid him). His current plight heightened by the fact he was obviously under age and still now theoretically young. Stanza 5 Recalls the image of the football match earlier, a contrast to the welcome he got when he returned from war. Stanza 6 We see the sad future ahead of him, and the loss not only of his limbs, but his attractiveness to the opposite sex. He has become dependent and hopeless on the state to look after him. 32

33 Disabled Wilfred Owen Close Reading Questions: 1. Read through the poem to yourself 2. Look up any unfamiliar words in the dictionary 3. Write down your initial reaction to the poem 4. Write down what we know about the soldier's life before and after the war. Use quotes to support what you are saying: Past Present 5. Compare and contrast the welcome the man gets for the football game and when he returns home: Rugby Game War Welcome 6. What reasons did he have for going to war? 7. What role does sleep play in this poem? 8. Find at least 4 language techniques: technique example why used 33

34 Wilfred Owen Disabled He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark, And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey, Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn, Voices of play and pleasure after day, Till gathering sleep had mothered them from him. About this time Town used to swing so gay When glow lamps budded in the light blue trees And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim, In the old times, before he threw away his knees. Now he will never feel again how slim Girls' waists are, or how warm their subtle hands, All of them touch him like some queer disease. There was an artist silly for his face, For it was younger than his youth, last year. Now he is old; his back will never brace; He's lost his colour very far from here, Poured it down shell holes till the veins ran dry, And half his lifetime lapsed in the hot race, And leap of purple spurted from his thigh. One time he liked a bloodsmear down his leg, After the matches carried shoulder high. It was after football, when he'd drunk a peg, He thought he'd better join. He wonders why... Someone had said he'd look a god in kilts. That's why; and maybe, too, to please his Meg, Aye, that was it, to please the giddy jilts, He asked to join. He didn't have to beg; Smiling they wrote his lie; aged nineteen years. Germans he scarcely thought of; and no fears Of Fear came yet. He thought of jewelled hilts For daggers in plaid socks; of smart salutes; And care of arms; and leave; and pay arrears; Esprit de corps; and hints for young recruits. And soon, he was drafted out with drums and cheers. Some cheered him home, but not as crowds cheer Goal. Only a solemn man who brought him fruits Thanked him; and then inquired about his soul. Now, he will spend a few sick years in Institutes, And do what things the rules consider wise, And take whatever pity they may dole. To night he noticed how the women's eyes Passed from him to the strong men that were whole. How cold and late it is! Why don't they come And put him into bed? Why don't they come? 34

35 Wilfred Owen Disabled He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark, And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey, Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn, Voices of play and pleasure after day, Till gathering sleep had mothered them from him. About this time Town used to swing so gay When glow lamps budded in the light blue trees And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim, In the old times, before he threw away his knees. Now he will never feel again how slim Girls' waists are, or how warm their subtle hands, All of them touch him like some queer disease. There was an artist silly for his face, For it was younger than his youth, last year. Now he is old; his back will never brace; He's lost his colour very far from here, Poured it down shell holes till the veins ran dry, And half his lifetime lapsed in the hot race, And leap of purple spurted from his thigh. One time he liked a bloodsmear down his leg, After the matches carried shoulder high. It was after football, when he'd drunk a peg, He thought he'd better join. He wonders why... Someone had said he'd look a god in kilts. That's why; and maybe, too, to please his Meg, Aye, that was it, to please the giddy jilts, He asked to join. He didn't have to beg; Smiling they wrote his lie; aged nineteen years. Germans he scarcely thought of; and no fears Of Fear came yet. He thought of jewelled hilts For daggers in plaid socks; of smart salutes; And care of arms; and leave; and pay arrears; Esprit de corps; and hints for young recruits. And soon, he was drafted out with drums and cheers. Some cheered him home, but not as crowds cheer Goal. Only a solemn man who brought him fruits Thanked him; and then inquired about his soul. Now, he will spend a few sick years in Institutes, And do what things the rules consider wise, And take whatever pity they may dole. To night he noticed how the women's eyes Passed from him to the strong men that were whole. How cold and late it is! Why don't they come And put him into bed? Why don't they come? 35

36 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 backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of gas shells dropping softly behind. Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time: But someone still was yelling out and stumbling, And flound'ring 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. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind eng1the 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. 36

37 12eng2 The Soldier by Rupert Brooke If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, A body of England's, breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home. And think, this heart, all evil shed away, A pulse in the eternal mind, no less Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given; Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day; And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness, In hearts at peace, under an English heaven. Rupert Brooke,

38 Analyse how different viewpoints on the same issue or idea are developed in at least two short written texts you have studied. Possible introduction: World War 1 poets Wilfred Owen and Rupert Brooke show two different views on the war in their poems. Brooke uses and in 'The Soldier' to convince the reader that war is an honourable and noble event. On the other hand, Owen uses and in 'Dulce et Decorum Est' effectively to show the harsh reality of the physical and mental effects of war. Possible introduction - long version. At the beginning of WW1, many young men thought that the war experience was going to be an honourable event which would allow them to prove their patriotism and show how superior England was. Rupert Brooke's poem, "The Soldier", reflects the sentimental and optimistic attitude of the time. However, as Brooke died on the way to war, this is really based on ignorance. On the other hand, Wilfred Owen used his own war experience in the poems "Disabled" and "Dulce Et Decorum Est" to show the true horrors of war. Brooke uses and to create his romantic view on war, while Owen uses and to open the reader's mind to reality. 38

39 2008 #4 For each of the texts, analyse how the writer used symbolism and / or figurative language to develop an important idea. symbolism sleep = protector/hell blood = life dust = blessing in sacrifice, the dead soldiers lie = propaganda and ignorance of government/people figurative language imagery simile, metaphor, personification tone/ emotive words [where there is added meaning to the words chosen] Wilfred Owen, the World War One poet, was very concerned with the physical and emotional effects of war on the innocent and naive young men who were sent to battle. Owen tries his best to make everyone aware of the true horrors of this experience. In his poems, Disabled and Dulce Et Decorum Est, he effectively uses a range of symbols and figurative language to convey his negative viewpoint. In Dulce Et similes are used effectively to show the physical effects of the war on the young soldiers at the start of the poem. They are returning from the frontline, and are described as "coughing like hags", and "bent double like old beggars under sacks". The once young, lively men are reduced to broken down shadows of their former selves. The stark contrast shown in this change portrays how awful and hellish the war is. Propaganda at the time used to imply that war is a glorious and noble event, but Owen is clearly showing the reader how wrong this image is. How could wives and mothers now knowing this reality support sending their loved ones off to war? Owen is condemning such messages that convinced young men to put their lives on the line. 39