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The First World War was "one of the seminal moments of the twentieth century in which literate soldiers, plunged into inhuman conditions, reacted to their surroundings in poems," Oxford University English lecturer Dr Stuart Lee says. It was as Evelyn Underhill wrote in her poem Non-combatants: Many collections of poems from and about the First World War have been drawn together over the past years. Below are some of the best.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead.

Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields. Under the level winter sky I saw a thousand Christs go by.

They sang an idle song and free As they went up to calvary. Careless of eye and coarse of lip, They marched in holiest fellowship. That heaven might heal the world, they gave Their earth-born dreams to deck the grave. With souls unpurged and steadfast breath They supped the sacrament of death. And for each one, far off, apart, Seven swords have rent a woman's heart. If I should die, think only this of me: And think, this heart, all evil shed away, A pulse in the eternal mind, no less Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given; Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day; And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness, In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

Where, propped against a shattered trunk, In a great mess of things unclean, Sat a dead Boche; he scowled and stunk With clothes and face a sodden green, Big-bellied, spectacled, crop-haired, Dribbling black blood from nose and beard. For what is sunk will hardly swim, Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.

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Then hold your head up all the more, This tide, And every tide; Because he was the son you bore, And gave to that wind blowing and that tide! Not yet will those measureless fields be green again Where only yesterday the wild sweet blood of wonderful youth was shed; There is a grave whose earth must hold too long, too deep a stain, Though for ever over it we may speak as proudly as we may tread. But here, where the watchers by lonely hearths from the thrust of an inward sword have more slowly bled, We shall build the Cenotaph: Victory, winged, with Peace, winged too, at the column's head.

And over the stairway, at the foot - oh! In splendid sleep, with a thousand brothers To lovers - to mothers Here, too, lies he: Under the purple, the green, the red, It is all young life: Only, when all is done and said, God is not mocked and neither are the dead.

For this will stand in our Market-place - Who'll sell, who'll buy Will you or I Lie each to each with the better grace? While looking into every busy whore's and huckster's face As they drive their bargains, is the Face Of God: You would not know him now… But still he died Nobly, so cover him over With violets of pride Purple from Severn side. Cover him, cover him soon! And with thick-set Masses of memoried flowers- Hide that red wet Thing I must somehow forget. Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge.

Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind. Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light, As under I green sea, I saw him 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.

You are blind like us. I bet you thought about the Gungans before you remembered Bravo Flight. That principle largely dictated the narrative. For each battle, the book takes readers through a stage-by-stage analysis including the pre-battle setup, the tactics used, and the aftermath. Sidebars include commander profiles and overviews of the equipment and soldier classes used in that particular conflict. Eleven major battles are covered in this book.

  1. Sessue Hayakawa: Silent Cinema and Transnational Stardom (a John Hope Franklin Center Book).
  2. Volume Three of the Liberation Trilogy.
  3. Codon Zero.
  5. Für immer tot: Ein Max-Broll-Krimi (Die Max-Broll-Krimis 2) (German Edition)!
  6. goes inside a new book celebrating the galaxy's biggest clashes.!
  7. News + Blog Categories.

Tell us more about the selection process for choosing which battles to cover. That made picking the first eight pretty simple.

The Liberation Trilogy, by Rick Atkinson

From there, Star Wars: The final slot went to the Battle of Jakku, which is the only battle in On the Front Lines that is never actually seen on screen. To write it I had to rely on sources like the Aftermath novels, the Battlefront game, and the young adult adventure Lost Stars , while filling in the blanks when necessary.

How does the artwork enhance the experience encapsulated in this guide? Honestly, the artwork is easily the most compelling reason to get this book. On the Front Lines is fundamentally an art book. The Battle of Hoth served as our primordial ooze in terms of figuring out what this book would ultimately become. Way back when we were still kicking around ideas about structure, we went straight to Hoth for our design example. From there, lot of the pieces fell into place. From the Hoth example, we developed profiles of opposing generals and explanations of military hardware, and refined the history-book point of view that fits each battle within the larger context of shifting galactic power.

That one is a first-person tale as related by a survivor of the battle, using their own words.

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For example, Lando gets a mention here, but only as Gold Leader. Luke shows up but only as Red Five.

  1. Die Zweitmeinung in der Schulterchirurgie - ein Muss (German Edition).
  2. Fifteen of the most moving First World War poems | News | The Week UK.
  3. Fifteen of the most moving First World War poems!
  4. !
  5. The Liberation Trilogy, by Rick Atkinson | Official Website.
  6. War History Online - Military History;
  7. Cold Sweat.

My favorite stories are the Gungan foot soldier offering her candid recollections of serving under General Binks, and the tale of the rat-like rebel salvager who seized Imperial warships above Jakku. You also take a look at the generals and admirals in charge in each battle as well as the key combatants and their technology. What might readers find interesting in these sidebar sections?