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World War I: Poetry by Year. Roughly 10 million soldiers lost their lives in World War I, along with seven million civilians. The horror of the war and its aftermath altered the world for decades, and poets responded to the brutalities and losses in new ways. Just months before his death in 1918, English poet Wilfred Owen famously wrote:
22. Sept. 2011 · Stravinsky sneered but the public loved it, and, nearly 50 years on, Britten's War Requiem has lost none of its power to move us, writes Ian Bostridge
Do you need anything else to draw you into this film? ‘The Pity of War: The Loves and Lives of the War Poets’ review by Giles De'Ath • Letterboxd Letterboxd — Your life in film
With contributions from the world’s leading historians, The Pity of War: Poets at the Front evokes the poets’ deeply visceral shock and horror at the incomprehension of the non-combatants at ‘home’ of what was being endured in combat. Their haunting legacy remains as we approach the centenary of the end of the First World War. "A solid ...
The greatest value of ‘The Pity of War’ may be as a reference guiding those with particular niche interests in the poets, art of films of the war, on the Keynesian economics and finance of the Germany, of bankers, as well as politicians and generals, on the literature since the war and the rebutting and debunking of many of the myths and misconceptions that have developed over the many ...
23. Nov. 2017 · 3 ‘Pity’ is a significant word in Siegfried Sassoon’s poems, and Owen was undoubtedly aided in the formulation of his preface, and altogether confirmed in his competence as a poet and in the tractability of the war as a subject for poetry, by his relationship with Sassoon, whom he met when both were inmates of Craiglockhart Hospital in Edinburgh, Owen as a consequence of ‘neurasthenia ...
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.
