Wilfred Owen(1893–1918)
Futility
M o v e h i m i n t o t h e s u n —
G e n t l y its t o u c h a w o k e h i m o n c e ,
A t h o m e , w h i s p e r i n g o f fields h a l f - s o w n .
A l w a y s it w o k e h i m , e v e n in F r a n c e ,
U n t i l this m o r n i n g a n d this s n o w .
I f a n y t h i n g m i g h t r o u s e h i m n o w
T h e kind old s u n will k n o w .
T h i n k h o w i t w a k e s t h e s e e d s —
W o k e o n c e t h e clays of a c o l d 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
May 19181920