Futility

1 Move him into the sun--
2 Gently its touch awoke him once,
3 At home, whispering of fields unsown.
4 Always it awoke him, even in France,
5 Until this morning and this snow.
6 If anything might rouse him now
7 The kind old sun will know.

8 Think how it wakes the seeds--
9 Woke, once, the clays of a cold star.
10 Are limbs so dear-achieved, are sides
11 Full-nerved,--still warm,--too hard to stir?
12 Was it for this the clay grew tall?
13 --O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
14 To break earth's sleep at all?

by Wilfred Owen

Comments (9)

Pain perfect penned.
The old sun know the answer Once the sleep of the earth will be broken.
i poems like these...very good
I like this one, its Good
This is an iconic poem, full of sadness of what the world wars are really like. True masterpieces and forever a favorite of mine.
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