Sample Essay on:
Textual Analysis of Wilfred Owen’s “Dulce et Decorum Est”

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Essay / Research Paper Abstract

An 8 page paper which provides a textual analysis of the poem by examining heroic diction, hyperboles, alliteration, similes, metaphors, imagery, and descriptive verbs carefully designed to get the poet’s message across. No additional sources are used.

Page Count:

8 pages (~225 words per page)

File: TG15_TGdulce.rtf

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Unformatted sample text from the term paper:

This is certainly true in the case of Wilfred Owen (1893-1918), a devout Christian who had an affinity for poetic prose. After much soul-searching, Owen decided to enlist in World War I, a choice that would forever alter his lifes course. The sights and sounds of war left their indelible imprint on Owen, and while hospitalized, he began experiencing the unmistakable symptoms of shell shock, horrific nightmares. This anguish inspired Owen what is arguably the most moving war poetry of all time. Unfortunately, Wilfred Owen was killed in action, ironically, one week before the wars end, but his poetic masterpiece, "Dulce et Decorum Est," survives as a testament not only to Owens artistry, but immortalizes the suffering of any man who has ever served in combat. In this, one of his last poems, Owen wrote, Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned out 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 hoots Of gas-shells dropping softly behind. Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!--An ecstasy of fumbling Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time, But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And floundring 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 sight 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 ...

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