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The document contains 4 poems about World War 1. The first poem "The Soldier" by Rupert Brooke reflects on dying in a foreign land and finding peace. The second poem "Attack" by Siegfried Sassoon describes the horrors of going over the top into battle. The third poem "Base Details" also by Sassoon criticizes those who did not fight. The fourth and final poem "In Flanders Fields" by John McRae honors those who died and calls others to continue the fight.
The document contains 4 poems about World War 1. The first poem "The Soldier" by Rupert Brooke reflects on dying in a foreign land and finding peace. The second poem "Attack" by Siegfried Sassoon describes the horrors of going over the top into battle. The third poem "Base Details" also by Sassoon criticizes those who did not fight. The fourth and final poem "In Flanders Fields" by John McRae honors those who died and calls others to continue the fight.
The document contains 4 poems about World War 1. The first poem "The Soldier" by Rupert Brooke reflects on dying in a foreign land and finding peace. The second poem "Attack" by Siegfried Sassoon describes the horrors of going over the top into battle. The third poem "Base Details" also by Sassoon criticizes those who did not fight. The fourth and final poem "In Flanders Fields" by John McRae honors those who died and calls others to continue the fight.
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. War Poetry Attack BY SIEGFRIED SASSOON
At dawn the ridge emerges massed and dun
In the wild purple of the glow'ring sun, Smouldering through spouts of drifting smoke that shroud The menacing scarred slope; and, one by one, Tanks creep and topple forward to the wire. The barrage roars and lifts. Then, clumsily bowed With bombs and guns and shovels and battle-gear, Men jostle and climb to, meet the bristling fire. Lines of grey, muttering faces, masked with fear, They leave their trenches, going over the top, While time ticks blank and busy on their wrists, And hope, with furtive eyes and grappling fists, Flounders in mud. O Jesus, make it stop! War Poetry Base Details By SIEGFRIED SASSOON
If I were fierce, and bald, and short of breath
I'd live with scarlet Majors at the Base, And speed glum heroes up the line to death. You'd see me with my puffy petulant face, Guzzling and gulping in the best hotel, Reading the Roll of Honour. "Poor young chap," I'd say — "I used to know his father well; Yes, we've lost heavily in this last scrap." And when the war is done and youth stone dead, I'd toddle safely home and die — in bed. War Poetry In Flanders Fields, by John McRae
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields. Images of World War I Images of World War I Images of World War I Images of World War I Images of World War I Images of World War I Images of World War I Images of World War I Images of World War I