Sunday 13 October 2013

World War I (1914-1919)




World War I was an extremely blood war that engulfed Europe from from 1914 to 1919, with huge losses of life and little ground lost or won. Fought mostly by soldiers in trenches, WWI saw an estimated 10 million military deaths and another 20 million wounded. While many hoped that WWI would be "the war to end all wars," in actuality, the concluding peace treaty set the stage for World War II.


I've just watch this short documentary. This video will easily enhance our knowledge about WWI. Enjoy it!




There are also several famous poets writing about WWI. For instance :

• Wilfred Owen : " Dulce et Decorus Est"
• Siegfried Sassoon : " How to Die"
• Herbert Read : "The Happy Warrior"
• W.N.Hodgson : "Before Action"
• Wilfred Gibson : "Back"  


Other than that, there is a strong but neglected tradition of women's poetry written in response to the events of the First World War. Many of these poems are the products of direct experience of the processes of war; making weapons, nursing the wounded, the loss of brothers, sons, or lovers in the trenches by women on active service in the battle areas as well as by women involved in the war effort at home. The range of this poetry is wide. It is often experimental and in advance of the male poetic response. Some of the women poets are well known in other contexts like Rose Macauley, Edith Nesbit, and Edith Sitwell  while others are largely unknown. Below are some examples of such works by a number of women poets of the period.

 Madeline Ida Bedford : “Munition Wages”
• Eva Dobell : “Pluck”
• Marian Allen :  “The Wind on the Downs”
• Sybil Bristowe : “Over the Top”

This is one of the poem :


The Call, by Jessie Pope

Who's for the trench—
Are you, my laddie?
Who'll follow French—
Will you, my laddie?
Who's fretting to begin,
Who's going out to win?
And who wants to save his skin—
Do you, my laddie?

Who's for the khaki suit—
Are you, my laddie?
Who longs to charge and shoot—
Do you, my laddie?
Who's keen on getting fit,
Who means to show his grit,
And who'd rather wait a bit—
Would you, my laddie?

Who'll earn the Empire's thanks—
Will you, my laddie?
Who'll swell the victor's ranks—
Will you, my laddie?
When that procession comes,
Banners and rolling drums—
Who'll stand and bite his thumbs—
Will you, my laddie?






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