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Wilfred Owen

Wilfred Owen

Training

Not this week nor this month dare I lie down
In languour under lime trees or smooth smile.
Love must not kiss my face pale that is brown.
 
My lips, parting, shall drink space, mile by mile;
Strong meats be all my hunger; my renown
Be the clean beauty of speed and pride of style.
 
Cold winds encountered on the racing Down
Shall thrill my heated bareness; but awhile
None else may meet me till I wear my crown.

Other works by Wilfred Owen...
On Seeing a Piece of Our Heavy Artillery Brought into Action

Be slowly lifted up, thou long bla… Great Gun towering towards Heaven… Sway steep against them, and for y… Huge imprecations like a blasting… Reach at that Arrogance which nee…
Wild with all Regrets

My arms have mutinied against me —… My fingers fidget like ten idle br… My back’s been stiff for hours, da… Death never gives his squad a Sta… I can’t read. There: it’s no use.…
S.I.W.

Patting goodbye, doubtless they to… He’d always show the Hun a brave… Father would sooner him dead than… Was proud to see him going, aye, a… Perhaps his Mother whimpered how…
On Seeing a Piece of Our Artillery Brought into Action

Be slowly lifted up, thou long bla… Great gun towering towards Heaven… Sway steep against them, and for y… Huge imprecations like a blasting… Reach at that Arrogance which nee…
Soldier's Dream

I dreamed kind Jesus fouled the b… And caused a permanent stoppage in… And buckled with a smile Mausers… And rusted every bayonet with His… And there were no more bombs, of o…
Spring Offensive

Halted against the shade of a last… They fed, and, lying easy, were at… And, finding comfortable chests an… Carelessly slept. But many there… To face the stark, blank sky beyon…
On my Songs

Though unseen Poets, many and man… Have answered me as if they knew m… And it might seem have fashioned s… To be my own soul’s cry; easing th… Of my dumb tears with language swe…
Anthem for Doomed Youth

What passing-bells for these who d… Only the monstrous anger of the gu… Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid… Can patter out their hasty orisons… No mockeries now for them; no pray…
Arms and the Boy

Let the boy try along this bayonet… How cold steel is, and keen with h… Blue with all malice, like a madma… And thinly drawn with famishing fo… Lend him to stroke these blind, bl…
Six o'clock in Princes Street

In twos and threes, they have not… Crowds that thread eastward, gay o… Those seek no further than their q… Wives, walking westward, slow and… Neither should I go fooling over…
The Sentry

We’d found an old Boche dug—out,… And gave us hell, for shell on fra… Hammered on top, but never quite b… Rain, guttering down in waterfalls… Kept slush waist high, that rising…
From my Diary, July 1914

Leaves Murmuring by miriads in the shimme… Lives Wakening with wonder in the Pyren… Birds
I Saw His Round Mouth's Crimson

I saw his round mouth’s crimson de… Like a Sun, in his last deep hour… Watched the magnificent recession… Clouding, half gleam, half glower, And a last splendour burn the heav…
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As Bronze May Be Much Beautified

As bronze may be much beautified By lying in the dark damp soil, So men who fade in dust of warfare… Fairer, and sorrow blooms their so… Like pearls which noble women wear
Cramped in That Funnelled Hole

Cramped in that funnelled hole, th… Open a jagged rim around; a yawn Of death’s jaws, which had all but… Stuck in the bottom of his throat… They were in one of many mouths of…



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