The poem
Head to limp head, the sunk-eyed wounded scanned Yesterday's Mail; the casualties (typed small) And (large) Vast Booty from our Latest Haul. Also, they read of Cheap Homes, not yet planned; For, said the paper, "When this war is done The men's first instinct will be making homes. Meanwhile their foremost need is aerodromes, It being certain war has just begun. Peace would do wrong to our undying dead, -- The sons we offered might regret they died If we got nothing lasting in their stead. We must be solidly indemnified. Though all be worthy Victory which all bought, We rulers sitting in this ancient spot Would wrong our very selves if we forgot The greatest glory will be theirs who fought, Who kept this nation in integrity." Nation? -- The half-limbed readers did not chafe But smiled at one another curiously Like secret men who know their secret safe. This is the thing they know and never speak, That England one by one had fled to France (Not many elsewhere now save under France). Pictures of these broad smiles appear each week, And people in whose voice real feeling rings Say: How they smile! They're happy now, poor things.
23rd September 1918.
The poem smile smile smile written by wilfred Owen is a full representation of warm, its terrors and dangers. It is an enthisiastic poem that arises courage in the hearts of soldiers.
O.K. Manal I'll help you.This poem is about war. Definitly, it is about Wilfred Owen's experiences at First war World one...I hope I helped you...Best wishes to you and good luck
absolutelybrilliant.. lets youget rightinto the moment.. he is an ispiration to all.. and so are the soldiers fighting for usat themoment..god bless you all.. every nation and race..i love you.
Judging from some of the comments already made there is some confusion about this poem. It is in fact, like much of Owen's war poetry heavily ironic and such amounts to a vitriolic attack on the political establishments who had apparently fairly casually allowed the First World War to start, or who at least paperred over its obscenities by fooling themselves with the cliches that Owen sardonically puts into their mounths.