1)What is the medium? 2)Why does it still exist/important? 3)Who was the original intended audience? Was the source meant to be private or public? 4)Who made it or had it made? 5)Analyze any biases or facts left out 6)What is the meaning of the source? 7)Any other complementary or contradictory sources? 8)Place the source in a larger context 9)How does this source relate to broader historical themes we have already talked about?¨ choose 5 questions to answer it in details "¨ Wilfred Owen, “Dulce et Decorum Est” WILFRED OWEN, “DULCE ET DECORUM EST” Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge

1)What is the medium?

2)Why does it still exist/important?

3)Who was the original intended audience? Was the source meant to be private or public?

4)Who made it or had it made?

5)Analyze any biases or facts left out

6)What is the meaning of the source?

7)Any other complementary or contradictory sources?

8)Place the source in a larger context

9)How does this source relate to broader historical themes we have already talked about?¨

choose 5 questions to answer it in details "¨ Wilfred Owen, “Dulce et Decorum Est”

WILFRED OWEN, “DULCE ET DECORUM EST” Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our 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 disappointed shells that dropped 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 floundering 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 a devil’s sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, 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: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.