The Show
My soul looked down from a vague height with Death,As unremembering how I rose or why,And saw a sad land, weak with sweats of dearth,Gray, cratered like the moon with hollow woe,And fitted with great pocks and scabs of plaques.
Across its beard, that horror of harsh wire,There moved thin caterpillars, slowly uncoiled.It seemed they pushed themselves to be as plugsOf ditches, where they writhed and shrivelled, killed.
By them had slimy paths been trailed and scrapedRound myriad warts that might be little hills.
From gloom's last dregs these long-strung creatures crept,And vanished out of dawn down hidden holes.
(And smell came up from those foul openingsAs out of mouths, or deep wounds deepening.)
On dithering feet upgathered, more and more,Brown strings towards strings of gray, with bristling spines,All migrants from green fields, intent on mire.
Those that were gray, of more abundant spawns,Ramped on the rest and ate them and were eaten.
I saw their bitten backs curve, loop, and straighten,I watched those agonies curl, lift, and flatten.
Whereat, in terror what that sight might mean,I reeled and shivered earthward like a feather.
And Death fell with me, like a deepening moan.And He, picking a manner of worm, which half had hidIts bruises in the earth, but crawled no further,Showed me its feet, the feet of many men,And the fresh-severed head of it, my head.
Words in this poem
- dearth n.
- Scarcity which renders dear; want; lack; specifically, lack of food on account of failure of crops; famine. [OE. derthe, fr. dere. See Dear.]
- myriad n.
- The number of ten thousand; ten thousand persons or things. [Gr. myriade.]
- backs n.
- Among leather dealers, the thickest and stoutest tanned hides.
- flatten v. t.
- To reduce to an even surface or one approaching evenness; to make flat; to level; to make plane. [From Flat, a.]
- whereat adv.
- At which; upon which; whereupon; -- used relatively.
- earthward adv.
- Toward the earth; -- opposed to heavenward or skyward.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Show 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, The Show, in Poems (1920), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #1034, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/owen-poems/the-show.html, id L04666.
Form and metre
The Show is 29 lines in 10 verse paragraphs. It is unrhymed, as far as the pronouncing dictionary can tell. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 85%). 95% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.4 syllables. 8 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 14% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic pentameter, other poems in blank verse.
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.
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 |
|---|---|---|
| My soul looked down from a vague height with Death, | 10 | ·········· |
| As unremembering how I rose or why, | 11 | ··········· |
| And saw a sad land, weak with sweats of dearth, | 10 | ·········· |
| Gray, cratered like the moon with hollow woe, | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| And fitted with great pocks and scabs of plaques. | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Across its beard, that horror of harsh wire, | 11 | ˘/···/˘··/˘ |
| There moved thin caterpillars, slowly uncoiled. | 11 | ···/˘·˘/˘·/ |
| It seemed they pushed themselves to be as plugs | 10 | ····˘/···· |
| Of ditches, where they writhed and shrivelled, killed. | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| By them had slimy paths been trailed and scraped | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Round myriad warts that might be little hills. | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| From gloom's last dregs these long-strung creatures crept, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And vanished out of dawn down hidden holes. | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| (And smell came up from those foul openings | 10 | ·······/˘˘ |
| As out of mouths, or deep wounds deepening.) | 10 | ·······/˘˘ |
| On dithering feet upgathered, more and more, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Brown strings towards strings of gray, with bristling spines, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| All migrants from green fields, intent on mire. | 10 | ·/˘···˘/·· |
| Those that were gray, of more abundant spawns, | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| Ramped on the rest and ate them and were eaten. | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| I saw their bitten backs curve, loop, and straighten, | 11 | ···/˘····/˘ |
| I watched those agonies curl, lift, and flatten. | 11 | ···/˘˘···/˘ |
| Whereat, in terror what that sight might mean, | 10 | ˘/·/˘····· |
| I reeled and shivered earthward like a feather. | 11 | ···/˘····/˘ |
| And Death fell with me, like a deepening moan. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And He, picking a manner of worm, which half had hid | 13 | ··/˘·/˘······ |
| Its bruises in the earth, but crawled no further, | 11 | ·/˘······/˘ |
| Showed me its feet, the feet of many men, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And the fresh-severed head of it, my head. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
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.