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(Fiona Shaw Performance)
(Pieces of Work Influenced By Eliot and The Waste Land)
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Owen was a poet contemporary to Eliot, also writing WWI thematic poetry such as his poem [http://www.englishverse.com/poems/futility Futlity] which speaks of the war dead and futile attempts to wake them from their final slumber, as well as representing the destructive effects the war had on the land.  ''The Waste Land'' has a continuous theme of futility and desolation in Europe following the war.  
 
Owen was a poet contemporary to Eliot, also writing WWI thematic poetry such as his poem [http://www.englishverse.com/poems/futility Futlity] which speaks of the war dead and futile attempts to wake them from their final slumber, as well as representing the destructive effects the war had on the land.  ''The Waste Land'' has a continuous theme of futility and desolation in Europe following the war.  
  
Lines from "Futility" stating that "If anything might rouse him now / The kind old sun will know" are reminiscent of pieces of ''[http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/176735 The Waste Land]''
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Lines from "Futility" stating that "If anything might rouse him now / The kind old sun will know" are reminiscent of pieces of ''[http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/176735 The Waste Land]'' that speak of the dead, such as the zombie scene displayed in the first section of the poem, Burial of the Dead. The war dead are wandering the streets of London, they are vacant and empty as "death had undone so many" of the people, creating the zombies that the narrator sees. In Owen's poem "Futility", the same theme of the unknown factor that comes with death is present.  "If anything might rouse him now", such as whatever roused the war dead in ''The Waste Land''
 
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Gently its touch awoke him once,
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At home, whispering of fields unsown.
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Always it woke him, even in France,
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Until this morning and this snow.
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If anything might rouse him now
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The kind old sun will know.
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Think how it wakes the seeds —
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Woke, once, the clays of a cold star.
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Are limbs so dear-achieved, are sides
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Full-nerved, — still warm, — too hard to stir?
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Was it for this the clay grew tall?
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— O what made fatuous sunbeams toil'
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To break earth's sleep at all?"
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Revision as of 19:23, 18 September 2014

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