by Wilfred Owen (1893 - 1918)

Language: English 
Our translations:  FRE SPA
Move him into the sun -
Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields unsown.
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 seed -
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 the earth's sleep at all?

First published in Nation, 1918. In some editions, in stanza 1 line 3, "unsown" is "half-sown"

Composition:

Text Authorship:

  • by Wilfred Owen (1893 - 1918), "Futility", first published 1918

See other settings of this text.

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "Futilité", copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • SPA Spanish (Español) (Dr. Anthony Krupp) (Clo Blanco) , copyright © 2025, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 14
Word count: 89