"The Next War" is a sonnet written in 1917 by British poet and World War I soldier Wilfred Owen, while he was being treated for shell shock (now referred to as posttraumatic stress disorder, or PTSD) at Craiglockhart Hospital. In the poem, Owen conveys the psychological horrors of war as well as his cynicism about its aims and effectiveness. Owen believed that rather than saving lives or furthering glorious, patriotic causes, wars only caused more death and led to future violence. Thus, although Owen wrote the poem in the form a traditional sonnet, the poem challenges traditional notions regarding the patriotism and glory of war.
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War's a joke for me and you,
Wile we know such dreams are true.
- Siegfried Sassoon
1Out there, we've walked quite friendly up to Death;
2Sat down and eaten with him, cool and bland,—
3Pardoned his spilling mess-tins in our hand.
4We've sniffed the green thick odour of his breath,—
5Our eyes wept, but our courage didn't writhe.
6He's spat at us with bullets and he's coughed
7Shrapnel. We chorussed when he sang aloft;
8We whistled while he shaved us with his scythe.
9Oh, Death was never enemy of ours!
10We laughed at him, we leagued with him, old chum.
11No soldier's paid to kick against his powers.
12We laughed, knowing that better men would come,
13And greater wars: when each proud fighter brags
14He wars on Death—for lives; not men—for flags.
War's a joke for me and you,
Wile we know such dreams are true.
- Siegfried Sassoon
1Out there, we've walked quite friendly up to Death;
2Sat down and eaten with him, cool and bland,—
3Pardoned his spilling mess-tins in our hand.
4We've sniffed the green thick odour of his breath,—
5Our eyes wept, but our courage didn't writhe.
6He's spat at us with bullets and he's coughed
7Shrapnel. We chorussed when he sang aloft;
8We whistled while he shaved us with his scythe.
9Oh, Death was never enemy of ours!
10We laughed at him, we leagued with him, old chum.
11No soldier's paid to kick against his powers.
12We laughed, knowing that better men would come,
13And greater wars: when each proud fighter brags
14He wars on Death—for lives; not men—for flags.
War's a joke for me and you,
Wile we know such dreams are true.
- Siegfried Sassoon
Out there, we've walked quite friendly up to Death;
Sat down and eaten with him, cool and bland,—
Pardoned his spilling mess-tins in our hand.
We've sniffed the green thick odour of his breath,—
Our eyes wept, but our courage didn't writhe.
He's spat at us with bullets and he's coughed
Shrapnel. We chorussed when he sang aloft;
We whistled while he shaved us with his scythe.
Oh, Death was never enemy of ours!
We laughed at him, we leagued with him, old chum.
No soldier's paid to kick against his powers.
We laughed, knowing that better men would come,
And greater wars: when each proud fighter brags
He wars on Death—for lives; not men—for flags.
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 Poem Out Loud — Listen to a reading of the poem.
Chemical War — Learn more about the history of chemical warfare, including the use of chlorine gas in WWI.
BBC's "The Poetry of War" — Watch clips of BBC's program featuring Sam West as Wilfred Owen.
The Poetry of World War I — Learn more from the Poetry Foundation.
Who Was Wilfred Owen? — Learn more from the British Library.
Sassoon's "A Letter Home" — Read the full poem that Owen quotes in his epigraph.