"Break of Day in the Trenches" is a World War I poem by British poet, soldier, and artist Isaac Rosenberg. Rosenberg wrote it in 1916 while serving on the Western Front, the conflict line stretching from Belgium through France. The poem describes dawn in the middle of war, establishing an eerie quiet that's soon interrupted by the appearance of a rat. The speaker contemplates what the war must be like from the rat's perspective, and, in doing so, highlights the horror, absurdity, and tragic wastefulness of the conflict.
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1The darkness crumbles away.
2It is the same old druid Time as ever,
3Only a live thing leaps my hand,
4A queer sardonic rat,
5As I pull the parapet’s poppy
6To stick behind my ear.
7Droll rat, they would shoot you if they knew
8Your cosmopolitan sympathies.
9Now you have touched this English hand
10You will do the same to a German
11Soon, no doubt, if it be your pleasure
12To cross the sleeping green between.
13It seems you inwardly grin as you pass
14Strong eyes, fine limbs, haughty athletes,
15Less chanced than you for life,
16Bonds to the whims of murder,
17Sprawled in the bowels of the earth,
18The torn fields of France.
19What do you see in our eyes
20At the shrieking iron and flame
21Hurled through still heavens?
22What quaver—what heart aghast?
23Poppies whose roots are in man’s veins
24Drop, and are ever dropping;
25But mine in my ear is safe—
26Just a little white with the dust.
1The darkness crumbles away.
2It is the same old druid Time as ever,
3Only a live thing leaps my hand,
4A queer sardonic rat,
5As I pull the parapet’s poppy
6To stick behind my ear.
7Droll rat, they would shoot you if they knew
8Your cosmopolitan sympathies.
9Now you have touched this English hand
10You will do the same to a German
11Soon, no doubt, if it be your pleasure
12To cross the sleeping green between.
13It seems you inwardly grin as you pass
14Strong eyes, fine limbs, haughty athletes,
15Less chanced than you for life,
16Bonds to the whims of murder,
17Sprawled in the bowels of the earth,
18The torn fields of France.
19What do you see in our eyes
20At the shrieking iron and flame
21Hurled through still heavens?
22What quaver—what heart aghast?
23Poppies whose roots are in man’s veins
24Drop, and are ever dropping;
25But mine in my ear is safe—
26Just a little white with the dust.
The darkness crumbles away.
It is the same old druid Time as ever,
Only a live thing leaps my hand,
A queer sardonic rat,
As I pull the parapet’s poppy
To stick behind my ear.
Droll rat, they would shoot you if they knew
Your cosmopolitan sympathies.
Now you have touched this English hand
You will do the same to a German
Soon, no doubt, if it be your pleasure
To cross the sleeping green between.
It seems you inwardly grin as you pass
Strong eyes, fine limbs, haughty athletes,
Less chanced than you for life,
Bonds to the whims of murder,
Sprawled in the bowels of the earth,
The torn fields of France.
What do you see in our eyes
At the shrieking iron and flame
Hurled through still heavens?
What quaver—what heart aghast?
Poppies whose roots are in man’s veins
Drop, and are ever dropping;
But mine in my ear is safe—
Just a little white with the dust.
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
The Significance of Poppies — A BBC article looking at the history of the war's emblematic flower.
More Poems and a Biography — Read more about Rosenberg's life and work at the Poetry Foundation.
The World War I Poets — A discussion of World War I poetry, together with examples of the poems themselves.
Footage from World War I — A clip from director Peter Jackson's WWI documentary, They Shall Not Grow Old, that offers a vivid glimpse of the poem's world.
The Trenches of World War I — More information about life and death in the WWI trenches.