After the blast of lightning from the east,
The flourish of loud clouds, the Chariot throne,
After the drums of time have rolled and ceased
And from the bronze west long retreat is blown,
Shall Life renew these bodies? Of a truth
All death will he annul, all tears assuage?
Or fill these void veins full again with youth
And wash with an immortal water age?
When I do ask white Age, he saith not so,—
"My head hangs weighed with snow."
And when I hearken to the Earth she saith
"My fiery heart sinks aching. It is death.
Mine ancient scars shall not be glorified
Nor my titanic tears the seas be dried."
Wilfred Owen’s The End is a haunting meditation on mortality, disillusionment, and the futility of hope in the face of inevitable decay. Written during the cataclysmic upheaval of World War I, the poem reflects Owen’s profound existential despair, his skepticism toward religious or metaphysical consolation, and his acute awareness of the body’s fragility. Unlike some of his more explicitly graphic war poems (Dulce et Decorum Est, Anthem for Doomed Youth), The End adopts a mythic, almost apocalyptic tone, employing rich symbolism and solemn diction to interrogate the possibility of renewal after destruction. This essay will explore the poem’s historical and cultural context, its intricate literary devices, its central themes, and its emotional impact, while also considering Owen’s biography and the broader philosophical questions the poem raises.
Owen wrote The End in the final years of his life (1917-1918), a period marked by his direct experience of trench warfare and his growing disillusionment with the rhetoric of heroism and sacrifice. The poem’s preoccupation with death, resurrection, and the silence of the divine reflects the broader crisis of faith that characterized the early 20th century, particularly in the wake of industrialized warfare. The mechanized brutality of World War I shattered Romantic ideals of noble combat, leaving poets like Owen to grapple with existential despair.
The poem’s opening lines—"After the blast of lightning from the east, / The flourish of loud clouds, the Chariot throne"—evoke biblical and classical imagery, suggesting the Second Coming or the arrival of a divine judge. Yet this expectation is immediately undercut by the poem’s skepticism. The "drums of time" rolling and ceasing imply not a triumphant apocalypse but a hollow finale, a world exhausted rather than redeemed. This mirrors the broader cultural disillusionment of the post-war period, where traditional religious narratives of resurrection and justice seemed inadequate in the face of unprecedented slaughter.
Owen employs a dense network of symbols and personifications to convey his bleak vision. The "blast of lightning from the east" suggests both divine intervention (traditionally, the east symbolizes the origin of light and revelation) and martial destruction (artillery barrages were a relentless feature of the Western Front). The "Chariot throne" alludes to Ezekiel’s vision of God’s chariot (Ezekiel 1) as well as classical depictions of Apollo or Helios, reinforcing the expectation of divine presence—only to subvert it.
The most striking personifications are those of Age and Earth, who serve as oracles of despair. White Age, his head "weighed with snow," embodies the inevitability of decay, rejecting the speaker’s hope for renewal. Earth, in contrast, is a more visceral figure—her "fiery heart sinks aching," suggesting both geological fatigue and the extinguishing of life-force. These voices offer no solace, only confirmation that death is final.
The poem’s closing lines—"Mine ancient scars shall not be glorified / Nor my titanic tears the seas be dried"—further dismantle any redemptive reading. The scars, likely referencing both personal trauma and the wounds of war, will not be transfigured into symbols of heroism. The "titanic tears" evoke both the mythological Titans (defeated, imprisoned forces of chaos) and the futility of human grief—no amount of weeping will reverse the natural order.
At its core, The End interrogates the possibility of renewal—whether physical, spiritual, or historical. The speaker’s questions—"Shall Life renew these bodies? Of a truth / All death will he annul, all tears assuage?"—echo Christian eschatology, particularly the promise of resurrection in 1 Corinthians 15. Yet Owen, who had lost faith in institutional religion, frames these questions with deep skepticism. The responses from Age and Earth confirm that no such renewal is forthcoming.
This theme aligns with Owen’s broader war poetry, which frequently dismantles patriotic and religious consolations. Unlike poets like Rupert Brooke, who idealized sacrifice (The Soldier), Owen presents death as meaningless and irreversible. The poem’s refusal to offer transcendence—whether through divine intervention, historical progress, or artistic commemoration—renders it one of his most nihilistic works.
The emotional power of The End lies in its solemn resignation. Unlike Owen’s more visceral war poems, which elicit horror through graphic detail, this poem achieves its effect through absence—the absence of divine response, the absence of renewal, the absence of meaning. The silence of Age and the sigh of Earth create a crushing finality, leaving the reader with the same hollow ache as the speaker.
The final lines, with their deliberate negation—"shall not be glorified," "seas be dried"—reinforce this despair. Unlike the biblical miracles (parting seas, resurrection), Owen’s world offers no such interventions. The scars remain merely scars; the tears remain futile. This emotional desolation resonates deeply in a post-war context, where millions mourned losses that seemed to defy any possible justification.
Owen’s poem can be fruitfully compared to T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land (1922), another post-war work grappling with spiritual desolation. Both poets employ fragmented mythic imagery to convey a world devoid of redemption, though Eliot’s work is more allusive and sprawling, while Owen’s is tightly controlled. Philosophically, The End aligns with existentialist thought—the recognition that life lacks inherent meaning, and that human suffering is met with cosmic indifference.
Biographically, Owen’s own death in November 1918, just days before the Armistice, lends the poem an eerie prescience. His skepticism toward renewal feels prophetic—his own life was not "renewed," his potential cut brutally short. In this light, The End reads not just as a war poem but as a universal meditation on mortality, one that transcends its immediate historical moment to speak to all who confront loss and oblivion.
The End stands as one of Wilfred Owen’s most philosophically austere and emotionally devastating works. Through its mythic imagery, its personified voices of despair, and its relentless negation of hope, the poem captures the existential crisis of a generation that had witnessed the collapse of old certainties. Unlike poets who sought solace in religion or patriotism, Owen offers no such comforts—only the stark acknowledgment that death is final, scars endure, and the earth itself is weary. In its unflinching despair, The End remains a powerful testament to the irreparable wounds of war and the silence that follows the last drumbeat of time.
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