27th May 2014
GCSE English: 'Disabled' Analysis
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He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark,
And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey,
Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park
Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn,
Voices of play and pleasure after day,
Till gathering sleep had mothered them from him.
About this time Town used to swing so gay
When glow-lamps budded in the light blue trees,
And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim,-
In the old times, before he threw away his knees.
Now he will never feel again how slim
Girls’ waists are, or how warm their subtle hands.
All of them touch him like some queer disease.
There was an artist silly for his face,
For it was younger than his youth, last year.
Now, he is old; his back will never brace;
He’s lost his colour very far from here,
Poured it down shell-holes till the veins ran dry,
And half his lifetime lapsed in the hot race
And leap of purple spurted from his thigh.
One time he liked a blood-smear down his leg,
After the matches, carried shoulder-high.
It was after football, when he’d drunk a peg,
He thought he’d better join. – He wonders why.
Someone had said he’d look a god in kilts,
That’s why; and maybe, too, to please his Meg,
Aye, that was it, to please the giddy jilts
He asked to join. He didn’t have to beg;
Smiling they wrote his lie: aged nineteen years.
Germans he scarcely thought of; all their guilt,
And Austria’s, did not move him. And no fears
Of Fear came yet. He drought of jewelled hills
For daggers in plaid socks; of smart salutes;
And care of arms; and leave; and pay arrears;
Esprit de corps; and hints for young recruits.
And soon, he was drafted out with drums and cheers.
Some cheered him home, but not as crowds cheer Goal.
Only a solemn man who brought him fruits
Thanked him; and then enquired about his soul.
Now, he will spend a few sick years in institutes,
And do what things the rules consider wise,
And take whatever pity they may dole.
Tonight he noticed how the women’s eyes
Passed from him to the strong men that were whole.
How cold and late it is! Why don’t they come
And put him into bed? Why don’t they come?
He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark,
And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey,
Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park
Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn,
Voices of play and pleasure after day,
Till gathering sleep had mothered them from him.
About this time Town used to swing so gay
When glow-lamps budded in the light blue trees,
And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim,-
In the old times, before he threw away his knees.
Now he will never feel again how slim
Girls’ waists are, or how warm their subtle hands.
All of them touch him like some queer disease.
There was an artist silly for his face,
For it was younger than his youth, last year.
Now, he is old; his back will never brace;
He’s lost his colour very far from here,
Poured it down shell-holes till the veins ran dry,
And half his lifetime lapsed in the hot race
And leap of purple spurted from his thigh.
One time he liked a blood-smear down his leg,
After the matches, carried shoulder-high.
It was after football, when he’d drunk a peg,
He thought he’d better join. – He wonders why.
Someone had said he’d look a god in kilts,
That’s why; and maybe, too, to please his Meg,
Aye, that was it, to please the giddy jilts
He asked to join. He didn’t have to beg;
Smiling they wrote his lie: aged nineteen years.
Germans he scarcely thought of; all their guilt,
And Austria’s, did not move him. And no fears
Of Fear came yet. He drought of jewelled hills
For daggers in plaid socks; of smart salutes;
And care of arms; and leave; and pay arrears;
Esprit de corps; and hints for young recruits.
And soon, he was drafted out with drums and cheers.
Some cheered him home, but not as crowds cheer Goal.
Only a solemn man who brought him fruits
Thanked him; and then enquired about his soul.
Now, he will spend a few sick years in institutes,
And do what things the rules consider wise,
And take whatever pity they may dole.
Tonight he noticed how the women’s eyes
Passed from him to the strong men that were whole.
How cold and late it is! Why don’t they come
And put him into bed? Why don’t they come?
Wilfred Owen
Context:
Subject:
Mood/tone:
Themes
Structure
Language
- Written by one of leading WW1 poets, who died, tragically, just before war ended.
- His poems gave a realistic and shocking insight into what it was like at the front, but also, as in this poem, the consequences of war.
Subject:
- “My subject is war, and the pity of war”. A young man has returned from war seriously disabled and reflects about how he came to join up, his life before the war, and then we are shown what his life will be like now he is damaged.
Mood/tone:
- Owen clearly feels anger and dismay at the fate which young men suffered. This young man shouldn’t even have been accepted (“Smiling they wrote his lie”)
- Poignant contrast between the life before and after (“In the old times, before he threw away his knees”)
- Nostalgia for lost youth, when football, girls etc were taken fro granted. “Now he is old”
- Regret: he realises his folly: “He thought he’d better join. – He wonders why”
- Bleak view of future: “he will spend a few sick years in institutes”
Themes
- War (obviously) and “the pity of war”; waste; youth; suffering; isolation; depression; memory
Structure
- Begins and ends with the man in the wheelchair, emphasizing that this is to be life from now on
- Poem switches between past and present within the stanzas, to juxtapose his life before and after the war. The use of discourse marker “now” in 2nd & 3rd stanzas highlights this shift.
Language
- Written in 3rd person, but voices the young man’s thoughts (“he wonders why”; “Why don’t they come?”) The young man remains anonymous – perhaps representative of a generation
- Juxtaposition of past and present is most striking element: sense of worth, desirability, manliness before contrasted with uselessness, unattractiveness, isolation now. (e.g. “carried shoulder high” / “sat in a wheelchair”)
- Sombre, dark lexis – everything now is “grey” (again, contrasts with the “light-blue trees”, “purple” blood) – supports idea that he has “lost his colour”
- The above is an example of the many euphemisms or images used for injury and death: “half his lifetime lapsed”, “leap of purple spurted”. Even “waiting for dark” could be reference to waiting for death.
- Semantic field of sport. Note this was often used by the patriotic poets to encourage participation; phrases like “Esprit de corps” are borrowed from recruitment literature
- The naive images of war are listed in 5th stanza. The list becomes increasingly trivial, ending in “pay arrears”
- Irony: his earlier liking for a “blood-smear down his leg” showing his lack of awareness of reality of war
- Bathos (anti-climax) in penultimate stanza following the list of expectations (“Some cheered him home...”)
- Pathos – throughout our pity is invoked for this young man. The plaintive questioning in the final stanza repeated: “Why don’t they come?”
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