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Bent double, like old beggars under sacks. Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! - An ecstasy of fumbling. Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time
But someone was still yelling out and stumbling And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime. - Dim through the misty panes and the 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 from the froth-corrupted lungs
Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some deperate glory, The old Lie:
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