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. You can also print out the jumbled poem to cut up and reassemble in the classroom. Either way, 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.
If anything might rouse him now
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
Move him into the sun—
To break earth's sleep at all?
Always it woke him, even in France,
At home, whispering of fields half-sown.
Think how it wakes the seeds—
Woke once the clays of a cold star.
Until this morning and this snow.
Gently its touch awoke him once,
Full-nerved, still warm, too hard to stir?
Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides
—O what made fatuous sunbeams toil