Futility
Wilfred Owen
1893 to 1918
Type into the gaps to complete the poem. To reset the game, click on the "Reset Game" button located below the poem. This will clear all the words you've placed in the blanks, and resetting the poem to its original state with empty blanks. If you prefer to drag and drop words, click the Drag & Drop button below. You can also print out the poem for use in the classroom.
Move him into the sun—
Gently its touch awoke once,
At home, whispering of fields half-sown.
Always it him, even in France,
Until this morning and this snow.
If anything might rouse him now
The kind old will know.
Think how it wakes the seeds—
Woke the clays of a cold star.
Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides
Full-nerved, still warm, too hard to stir?
it for this the clay grew tall?
—O what fatuous sunbeams toil
To break earth's sleep at all?