Wilfred Owen

1893-1918 / English
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1914War broke: and now the Winter of the world / With perishing great darkness closes in. / The foul tornado, centred at Berlin,
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A New HeavenSeeing we never found gay fairyland / (Though still we crouched by bluebells moon by moon) / And missed the tide of Lethe; yet are soon
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An Imperial ElegyNot one corner of a foreign field / But a span as wide as Europe; / An appearance of a titan's grave,
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Anthem Of Doomed YouthWhat passing-bells for these who die as cattle? / Only the monstrous anger of the guns. / Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
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Apologia pro Poemate MeoI, too, saw God through mud, - / The mud that cracked on cheeks when wretches smiled. / War brought more glory to their eyes than blood,
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Arms and the BoyLet the boy try along this bayonet-blade / How cold steel is, and keen with hunger of blood; / Blue with all malice, like a madman's flash;
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As Bronze May Be Much BeautifiedAs bronze may be much beautified / By lying in the dark damp soil, / So men who fade in dust of warfare fade
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AsleepUnder his helmet, up against his pack, / After so many days of work and waking, / Sleep took him by the brow and laid him back.
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At a Calvary Near the AncreOne ever hangs where shelled roads part. / In this war He too lost a limb, / But His disciples hide apart;
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A Terre (BEING THE PHILOSOPHY OF MANY SOLDIERS)Sit on the bed. I'm blind, and three parts shell. / Be careful; can't shake hands now; never shall. / Both arms have mutinied against me, - brutes.
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