1921 in Poetry

1921 In Poetry

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

— Wilfred Owen, concluding lines of Dulce et Decorum Est, published this year

Nationality words link to articles with information on the nation's poetry or literature (for instance, Irish or France).