Simon Russell Beale, "Dulce et Decorum Est" from The Pity of War: Songs and Poems of Wartime Suffering (The Last Angry Man)
Commentary: A reading of the poem by Wilfred Owen (1893-1918).
"…In all my dreams before my helpless sightDulce et decorum est
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
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie:
Pro patria mori."
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