‘Futility’ is an anti-war poem by the most renowned war poet, Wilfred Owen. The poem throws light on the futility of war & the futility of several other thing, which fail to wake up a dead soldier from his deep sleep.
Move him into the sun—
Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields half-sown.
Always it woke him, even in France,
Until this morning and this snow.
If anything might rouse him now
The kind old sun will know.
Think how it wakes the seeds—
Woke once the clays of a cold star.
Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides
Full-nerved, still warm, too hard to stir?
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
—O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
To break earth’s sleep at all?
– Wilfred Owen
Did you like this poem? What are your views on war? The closing lines are my favourite. Which is your favourite part? Do share your thoughts. Thanks.