1920 in poetry

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 Owen, concluding lines of "Dulce et Decorum est", written 1917, published posthumously this year

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