Futility
Wilfred Owen
1893 to 1918
Track 1
Reconstruct the poem by dragging each line into its correct position. You can also use the up (↑) and down (↓) arrows to move a line one place at a time, or the top (⇑) and bottom (⇓) arrows to move a line directly to the top or bottom. 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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—O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides
Until this morning and this snow.
Always it woke him, even in France,
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
Woke once the clays of a cold star.
At home, whispering of fields half-sown.
Full-nerved, still warm, too hard to stir?
To break earth's sleep at all?
Gently its touch awoke him once,
The kind old sun will know.
If anything might rouse him now
Move him into the sun—
Think how it wakes the seeds—
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