Futility
Wilfred Owen
1893 to 1918
Track 1
Reconstruct the poem by dragging each line into its correct position. Your goal is to reassemble the original poem as accurately as possible. As you move the lines, you'll see whether your arrangement is correct, helping you explore the poem's flow and meaning. Take your time, enjoy the process, and discover how the poet's words come together to create something truly beautiful.
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The kind old sun will know.
Full-nerved, still warm, too hard to stir?
Always it woke him, even in France,
If anything might rouse him now
To break earth's sleep at all?
—O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
Think how it wakes the seeds—
Woke once the clays of a cold star.
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
Gently its touch awoke him once,
Move him into the sun—
Until this morning and this snow.
Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides
At home, whispering of fields half-sown.