
The work explores the futility and brutality of war, reflecting on the human condition amidst chaos and suffering. It begins with a lamentation over existence in a world rife with violence and moral decay. The speaker expresses a desire to have never been born, highlighting the senselessness of life marked by conflict and bloodshed. The narrative delves into the cyclical nature of war, suggesting that even without individual consciousness, the horrors of battle would persist. The text critiques the relentless ambition of empires and the resulting human cost, emphasizing that the pain and loss experienced by individuals are a constant, regardless of personal awareness or involvement. As the poem progresses, it juxtaposes the beauty of life with the harsh realities of war, illustrating how moments of peace and growth are often shattered by violence. The imagery evokes a sense of inevitability, where the ambitions of the powerful lead to widespread suffering, and the lives of ordinary people are irrevocably altered. The work ultimately serves as a meditation on existence, questioning the value of life in a world dominated by conflict. It challenges readers to confront the moral implications of war and the impact of human actions on the collective experience of suffering. Through its poignant language and vivid imagery, the piece captures the despair and resignation felt in the face of relentless turmoil, urging a reflection on the true cost of ambition and power.
By Thomas Hardy · First published 1917 · Genre: Poetry, War Literature, Philosophical Literature · 161 words
"WOULD that I'd not drawn breath here! " some one said, / "To stalk upon this stage of evil deeds, / Where purposelessly month by month proceeds / A play so sorely shaped and blood-bespread."
Yet had his spark not quickened, but lain dead / To the gross spectacles of this our day, / And never put on the proffered cloak of clay, / He had but known not things now manifested;
Life would have swirled the same. Morns would have dawned / On the uprooting by the night-gun's stroke / Of what the yester noonshine brought to flower;
Brown martial brows in dying throes have wanned / Despite his absence; hearts no fewer been broke / By Empery's insatiate lust of power.
In Time of Wars and Tumults is listed on Textopian as a poem by Thomas Hardy, dated 1917 CE.
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war · conflict · tumult · historical · drama · struggle · society · humanity · suffering · resilience · courage · loss