11/11

[altariel]

For by my glee might many men have laughed,
And of my weeping something had been left,
Which must die now. I mean the truth untold,
The pity of war, the pity war distilled.
Now men will go content with what we spoiled,
Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled.
They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress.
None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.

From Strange Meeting by Wilfred Owen

And do read the poems posted by the_wild_iris.

Comments

[the-wild-iris.livejournal.com]

None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.

It's interesting how these lines are ambiguous - I can't decide whether it's valour or militant stubbornness that Owen is predicting here. Isolated, as in your icon, it seems wholly positive; in context, more puzzling. Definitely a hugely rich and thought-provoking poems. Thanks for posting.

[altariel.livejournal.com]

You know, I had always read it as militant stubbornness - thank you for the other interpretation, it'll make me read the poem afresh.

[the-wild-iris.livejournal.com]

When I first saw the quote on your icon - and not being too familiar with the poem itself - I read it as people keeping their chosen course despite what governments might do. And then when I read it in the context of the whole thing, it seemed as though it might refer to people blindly following their governments away from progress - although not clearly enough that I could abandon the first reading! I did puzzle my brain over it.

[kalypso-v.livejournal.com]

Ooh, I do like that icon...

[the-wild-iris.livejournal.com]

Mine? Thank you!

[kalypso-v.livejournal.com]

It inspired me to buy a postcard with a drawing of an iris on it this morning. Don't worry, it was only five pence - something to do with the John Rylands Library having a surplus of stock they need to shift quickly while the building's closed for repairs.