Insensibility
Happy are men who yet before they are killedCan let their veins run cold.Whom no compassion fleersOr makes their feetSore on the alleys cobbled with their brothers.The front line withers,But they are troops who fade, not flowersFor poets' tearful fooling:Men, gaps for fillingLosses who might have foughtLonger; but no one bothers.
And some cease feelingEven themselves or for themselves.Dullness best solvesThe tease and doubt of shelling,And Chance's strange arithmeticComes simpler than the reckoning of their shilling.They keep no check on Armies' decimation.
Happy are these who lose imagination:They have enough to carry with ammunition.Their spirit drags no pack.Their old wounds save with cold can not more ache.Having seen all things red,Their eyes are ridOf the hurt of the colour of blood for ever.And terror's first constriction over,Their hearts remain small drawn.Their senses in some scorching cautery of battleNow long since ironed,Can laugh among the dying, unconcerned.
Happy the soldier home, with not a notionHow somewhere, every dawn, some men attack,And many sighs are drained.Happy the lad whose mind was never trained:His days are worth forgetting more than not.He sings along the marchWhich we march taciturn, because of dusk,The long, forlorn, relentless trendFrom larger day to huger night.
We wise, who with a thought besmirchBlood over all our soul,How should we see our taskBut through his blunt and lashless eyes?Alive, he is not vital overmuch;Dying, not mortal overmuch;Nor sad, nor proud,Nor curious at all.He cannot tellOld men's placidity from his.
But cursed are dullards whom no cannon stuns,That they should be as stones.Wretched are they, and meanWith paucity that never was simplicity.By choice they made themselves immuneTo pity and whatever mourns in manBefore the last sea and the hapless stars;Whatever mourns when many leave these shores;Whatever sharesThe eternal reciprocity of tears.
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,And towards our distant rest began to trudge.Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hootsOf gas-shells dropping softly behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!--An ecstasy of fumblingFitting the clumsy helmets just in time,But someone still was yelling out and stumblingAnd flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.--Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams before my helpless sightHe plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams, you too could paceBehind 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 bloodCome gargling from the froth-corrupted lungsBitter as the cudOf vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--My friend, you would not tell with such high zestTo children ardent for some desperate glory,The old Lie: Dulce et decorum estPro patria mori.
Words in this poem 28
- withers n.
- The ridge between the shoulder bones of a horse, at the base of the neck. See Illust. of Horse. [Properly, the parts which resist the pull or strain in drawing a load; fr. OE. wither resistance, AS. withre, fr. wither against; akin to G. widerrist withers. ]
- tearful a.
- Abounding with tears; weeping; shedding tears; as, tearful eyes.
- shelling n.
- Groats; hulled oats. Simmonds.
- decimation n.
- A tithing. State Trials (1630). [L. decimatio: cf. F. décimation.]
- ache n.
- A name given to several species of plants; as, smallage, wild celery, parsley. Holland. [F. ache, L. apium parsley.]
- scorching a.
- Burning; parching or shriveling with heat.
- somewhere adv.
- In some place unknown or not specified; in one place or another.
- taciturn a.
- Habitually silent; not given to converse; not apt to talk or speak. [L. taciturnus: cf. F. taciturne. See Tacit.]
- forlorn a.
- Deserted abandoned; lost. [OE., p.p. of forlesen to lose utterly, AS. forleósan (p.p. forloren); pref. for- + leósan (in comp.) to lose; cf. D. verliezen to lose, G. verlieren, Sw. förlor]
- relentless a.
- Unmoved by appeals for sympathy or forgiveness; insensible to the distresses of others; destitute of tenderness; unrelenting; unyielding; unpitying; as, a prey to relentless despotism.
- trend v. i.
- To have a particular direction; to run; to stretch; to tend; as, the shore of the sea trends to the southwest. [OE. trenden to roll or turn about; akin to OFries. trind, trund, round, Dan. & Sw. trind, AS. trendel a circle, ring, and E. trendle, trundle.]
- besmirch v. t.
- To smirch or soil; to discolor; to obscure. Hence: To dishonor; to sully.
- curious a.
- Difficult to please or satisfy; solicitous to be correct; careful; scrupulous; nice; exact. [OF. curios, curius, F. curieux, L. curiosus careful, inquisitive, fr. cura care. See Cure.]
- placidity n.
- The quality or state of being placid; calmness; serenity. [L. placiditas: cf. F. placidité.]
- cursed a.
- Deserving a curse; execrable; hateful; detestable; abominable.
- paucity n.
- Fewness; smallness of number; scarcity. Hooker. [L. paucitas, fr. paucus few, little: cf. F. paucité See Few.]
- immune a.
- Exempt; protected by inoculation. [L. immunis. See Immunity.]
- hapless a.
- Without hap or luck; luckless; unfortunate; unlucky; unhappy; as, hapless youth; hapless maid.
- reciprocity n.
- Mutual action and reaction. [Cf. F. réciprocité. See Reciprocal.]
- sludge n.
- Mud; mire; soft mud; slush. Mortimer. [CF. Slush.]
- backs n.
- Among leather dealers, the thickest and stoutest tanned hides.
- trudge v. i.
- To walk or march with labor; to jog along; to move wearily. [Perhaps of Scand. origin, and originally meaning, to walk on snowshoes; cf. dial. Sw. truga, trudja, a snowshoe, Norw. truga, Icel. þruga.]
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
- clumsy a.
- Stiff or benumbed, as with cold. [OE. clumsed benumbed, fr. clumsen to be benumbed; cf. Icel. klumsa lockjaw, dial. Sw. klummsen benumbed with cold. Cf. 1st Clam, and 1st Clamp.]
- choking a.
- That chokes; producing the feeling of strangulation.
- zest n.
- A piece of orange or lemon peel, or the aromatic oil which may be squeezed from such peel, used to give flavor to liquor, etc. [F. zeste, probably fr. L. schistos split, cleft, divided, Gr. Schism.]
- desperate a.
- Without hope; given to despair; hopeless. [L. desperatus, p. p. of desperare. See Despair, and cf. Desperado.]
- dulce v. t.
- To make sweet; to soothe.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Insensibility is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #1034; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Wilfred Owen, Insensibility, in Poems (1920), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #1034, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/owen-poems/insensibility.html, id L04672.
Form and metre
Insensibility is 87 lines in 10 stanzas. This poem did not settle on a metre of its own; the book it comes from is in iambic pentameter. 92% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.5 syllables. 24 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 36% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 3 ----------AA imagination · ammunition · pack · ache · red · rid · ever · over · drawn · battle · ironedA · unconcernedA
- 4 --AA----- notion · attack · drainedA · trainedA · not · march · dusk · trend · night
- 5 ----AA---- besmirch · soul · task · eyes · overmuchA · overmuchA · proud · all · tell · his
- 6 --------AA stuns · stones · mean · simplicity · immune · man · stars · shores · sharesA · tearsA
- 7 ABABCDCD sacksA · sludgeB · backsA · trudgeB · bootsC · blindD · hootsC · behindD
- 8 ABAB-- fumblingA · timeB · stumblingA · limeB · light · drowning
- 10 ABABCDCD-E-E paceA · inB · faceA · sinB · bloodC · lungsD · cudC · tonguesD · zest · gloryE · est · moriE
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Happy are men who yet before they are killed | 11 | /˘········· |
| Can let their veins run cold. | 6 | ······ |
| Whom no compassion fleers | 6 | ··˘/˘· |
| Or makes their feet | 4 | ···· |
| Sore on the alleys cobbled with their brothers. | 11 | ···/˘/˘··/˘ |
| The front line withers, | 5 | ···/˘ |
| But they are troops who fade, not flowers | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| For poets' tearful fooling: | 7 | ·/˘/˘/˘ |
| Men, gaps for filling | 5 | ···/˘ |
| Losses who might have fought | 6 | /˘···· |
| Longer; but no one bothers. | 7 | /˘···/˘ |
| And some cease feeling | 5 | ···/˘ |
| Even themselves or for themselves. | 8 | /˘˘/··˘/ |
| Dullness best solves | 4 | /˘·· |
| The tease and doubt of shelling, | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| And Chance's strange arithmetic | 8 | ·/˘·˘/˘· |
| Comes simpler than the reckoning of their shilling. | 11 | ·/˘··/˘··/˘ |
| They keep no check on Armies' decimation. | 11 | ·····/˘/˘·˘ |
| Happy are these who lose imagination: | 11 | /˘····˘·˘/˘ |
| They have enough to carry with ammunition. | 12 | ··˘/·/˘··˘/˘ |
| Their spirit drags no pack. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Their old wounds save with cold can not more ache. | 10 | ·········· |
| Having seen all things red, | 6 | /˘···· |
| Their eyes are rid | 4 | ···· |
| Of the hurt of the colour of blood for ever. | 11 | ·····/˘···/ |
| And terror's first constriction over, | 9 | ·/˘·˘/˘·· |
| Their hearts remain small drawn. | 6 | ··˘/·· |
| Their senses in some scorching cautery of battle | 13 | ·/˘··/˘/˘˘·/˘ |
| Now long since ironed, | 5 | ···/˘ |
| Can laugh among the dying, unconcerned. | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| Happy the soldier home, with not a notion | 11 | /˘·/˘····/˘ |
| How somewhere, every dawn, some men attack, | 10 | ·/·/˘···˘/ |
| And many sighs are drained. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Happy the lad whose mind was never trained: | 10 | /˘·····/˘· |
| His days are worth forgetting more than not. | 10 | ····˘/˘··· |
| He sings along the march | 6 | ··˘/·· |
| Which we march taciturn, because of dusk, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| The long, forlorn, relentless trend | 8 | ··˘/˘/˘· |
| From larger day to huger night. | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| We wise, who with a thought besmirch | 8 | ······˘/ |
| Blood over all our soul, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| How should we see our task | 7 | ····/˘· |
| But through his blunt and lashless eyes? | 8 | ········ |
| Alive, he is not vital overmuch; | 10 | ˘/···/˘/˘˘ |
| Dying, not mortal overmuch; | 8 | /˘·/˘/˘˘ |
| Nor sad, nor proud, | 4 | ···· |
| Nor curious at all. | 6 | ·/˘˘·· |
| He cannot tell | 4 | ·/˘· |
| Old men's placidity from his. | 8 | ··˘/˘˘·· |
| But cursed are dullards whom no cannon stuns, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| That they should be as stones. | 6 | ······ |
| Wretched are they, and mean | 6 | /˘···· |
| With paucity that never was simplicity. | 11 | ·/˘˘·/·˘/˘˘ |
| By choice they made themselves immune | 8 | ····˘/˘/ |
| To pity and whatever mourns in man | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Before the last sea and the hapless stars; | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Whatever mourns when many leave these shores; | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Whatever shares | 4 | ·/˘· |
| The eternal reciprocity of tears. | 10 | ·˘/˘·˘/˘·· |
| Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, | 10 | ··/˘······ |
| Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs, | 10 | ···/˘···/· |
| And towards our distant rest began to trudge. | 10 | ··//˘·˘/·· |
| Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots, | 10 | ··˘//˘···· |
| But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind; | 10 | ·········· |
| Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots | 10 | ··˘/·/˘··· |
| Of gas-shells dropping softly behind. | 9 | ···/˘/˘·· |
| Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!--An ecstasy of fumbling | 11 | ·····/˘·/˘˘ |
| Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time, | 10 | /˘·/˘/˘··· |
| But someone still was yelling out and stumbling | 11 | ·/···/˘··/˘ |
| And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.-- | 10 | ·······/·· |
| Dim through the misty panes and thick green light, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| In all my dreams before my helpless sight | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. | 11 | ·/˘··/˘/˘/˘ |
| If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Behind the wagon that we flung him in, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin, | 11 | ·/˘···/˘··· |
| If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| Bitter as the cud | 5 | /˘··· |
| Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,-- | 10 | ··˘/˘··/˘· |
| My friend, you would not tell with such high zest | 10 | ·········· |
| To children ardent for some desperate glory, | 11 | ·/˘/˘··/˘/˘ |
| The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est | 10 | ·····˘/˘˘/ |
| Pro patria mori. | 5 | ···/˘ |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.