View
14.632
Download
0
Category
Tags:
Preview:
DESCRIPTION
Propaganda and poetry in World War I
Citation preview
Unit 6: World War I
“a concerted set of messages aimed at influencing the opinions or behavior of large numbers of people.” (Wikipedia)
Like advertising – tries to convince you of something
Used by governments to gain support of people
Direct appeal
Authority
Hero Keep It
Simple
French “Cardinal Mercier
protects Belgium.” Real person who
organized resistance to German invasion
German “Go, soldier, and
fulfill your duty.Christ, the good shepherd, watch over your flock.Oh Master! Bring us into your Kingdom, thy will be done,On Earth, as it is in heaven.”Trans. courtesy Bob Shaw
In Flanders fields the poppies blowBetween the crosses, row on row,That mark our place; and in the skyThe larks, still bravely singing, flyScarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days agoWe lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,Loved, and were loved, and now we lieIn Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:To you from failing hands we throwThe torch; be yours to hold it high.If ye break faith with us who dieWe shall not sleep, though poppies growIn Flanders fields.
John McRaeb. Nov. 30, 1872d. Jan. 28, 1918
Canadian lt. col. Written May, 1915;
published Dec. 8, 1915 Killed Jan. 28, 1918
Papaver rhoeas – corn poppy
Associated with sleep and death (opium); red = blood
Common weed in Europe
Grows in disturbed soil
Became symbol of dead soldiers
…Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling, And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . . Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est Pro patria mori.
Wilfred Owenb. March 18, 1893 d. Nov. 4, 1918
British Killed 1 week before the
armistice Written Oct. 1917-March 1918 Published posthumously 1920 Quotes a poem of Horace
Recommended