
Futility is a poem written by Wilfred Owen during World War I. It is a reflection on the futility of war and the death of soldiers in battle. The poem begins with the speaker asking why God would allow such a senseless waste of life. He then goes on to describe a dead soldier, whose body is so cold that the sun cannot revive him. The speaker wonders why the soldier was ever sent to war in the first place, and why he was not allowed to live a peaceful life. The poem ends with the speaker questioning the pointlessness of war and the futility of life.
By Wilfred Owen · First published 1918 · Genre: Poetry, War Literature, Anti-War Literature · 114 words
Move him into the sun -- Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of fields unsown. Always it woke him, even in France, Until this morning and this snow. If anything might rouse him now The kind old sun will know.
Think how it wakes the seeds -- Woke, once, the clays of a cold star. Are limbs so dear-achieved, are sides Full-nerved, -- still warm, -- too hard to stir? Was it for this the clay grew tall? -- O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earth's sleep at all?
Poems: Futility is listed on Textopian as a poem by Wilfred Owen, dated 1918 CE.
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1914-1918 · 20th century · English poetry · Poetry · War poetry · World War · awoke · break · clay · clays · cold · dear-achieved