Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
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.My fingers..
© Wilfred Owen
The Show
My soul looked down from a vague height with Death,As unremembering how I rose or why,And saw a sad land, weak with sweats of dearth,Gray, cratered..
© Wilfred Owen
S.I.W.
"I will to the King,And offer him consolation in his trouble,For that man there has set his teeth to die,And being one that hates..
© Wilfred Owen
Winter Song
The browns, the olives, and the yellows died,And were swept up to heaven; where they glowedEach dawn and set of sun till Christmastide,And when the..
© Wilfred Owen
Music
I have been urged by earnest violinsAnd drunk their mellow sorrows to the slakeOf all my sorrows and my thirsting sins.My heart has beaten for a..
© Wilfred Owen
Wild With All Regrets
(Another version of "A Terre".)To Siegfried SassoonMy arms have mutinied against me -- brutes!My fingers fidget like ten idle brats,My back's been..
© Wilfred Owen
Beauty: [notes For An Unfinished Poem]
The beautiful, the fair, the elegant,Is that which pleases us, says Kant,Without a thought of interest or advantage.I used to watch men when they..
© Wilfred Owen
Schoolmistress
SchoolmistressHaving, with bold Horatius, stamped her feetAnd waved a final swashing arabesqueO'er the brave days of old, she ceased to bleat,Slapped..
© Wilfred Owen
The Letter
With B.E.F. Jun 10. Dear Wife,(Oh blast this pencil. 'Ere, Bill, lend's a knife.)I'm in the pink at present, dear.I think the war will end this..
© Wilfred Owen
Insensibility
IHappy are men who yet before they are killedCan let their veins run cold.Whom no compassion fleersOr makes their feetSore on the alleys cobbled with..
© Wilfred Owen
Spring Offensive
1 Halted against the shade of a last hill,2 They fed, and, lying easy, were at ease3 And, finding comfortable chests and knees4 Carelessly slept. But..
© Wilfred Owen
Conscious
His fingers wake, and flutter up the bed.His eyes come open with a pull of will,Helped by the yellow may-flowers by his head.A blind-cord drawls..
© Wilfred Owen
The Sentry
We'd found an old Boche dug-out, and he knew,And gave us hell, for shell on frantic shellHammered on top, but never quite burst through.Rain..
© Wilfred Owen
The Young Soldier
It is not deathWithout hereafterTo one in dearthOf life and its laughter,Nor the sweet murderDealt slow and evenUnto the martyrSmiling at heaven:It..
© Wilfred Owen
At A Calvary Near The Ancre
One ever hangs where shelled roads part.In this war He too lost a limb,But His disciples hide apart;And now the Soldiers bear with Him.Near Golgotha..
© Wilfred Owen
Inspection
'You! What d'you mean by this?' I rapped.'You dare come on parade like this?''Please, sir, it's-' ''Old yer mouth,' the sergeant snapped.'I takes 'is..
© Wilfred Owen
The Send-Off
Down the close, darkening lanes they sang their wayTo the siding-shed,And lined the train with faces grimly gay.Their breasts were stuck all white..
© Wilfred Owen
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..
© Wilfred Owen
Soldier's Dream
I dreamed kind Jesus fouled the big-gun gears;And caused a permanent stoppage in all bolts;And buckled with a smile Mausers and Colts;And rusted..
© Wilfred Owen
But I Was Looking At The Permanent Stars
Bugles sang, saddening the evening air,And bugles answered, sorrowful to hear.Voices of boys were by the river-side.Sleep mothered them; and left the..
© Wilfred Owen
The Parable Of The Old Man And The Young
So Abram rose, and clave the wood, and went,And took the fire with him, and a knife.And as they sojourned both of them together,Isaac the first-born..
© Wilfred Owen
An Imperial Elegy
Not one corner of a foreign fieldBut a span as wide as Europe;An appearance of a titan's grave,And the length thereof a thousand miles,It crossed all..
© Wilfred Owen
With An Identity Disc
If ever I dreamed of my dead nameHigh in the heart of London, unsurpassedBy Time for ever, and the Fugitive, Fame,There seeking a long sanctuary at..
© Wilfred Owen
Miners
There was a whispering in my hearth,A sigh of the coal.Grown wistful of a former earthIt might recall.I listened for a tale of leavesAnd smothered..
© Wilfred Owen
Greater Love
Red lips are not so redAs the stained stones kissed by the English dead.Kindness of wooed and wooerSeems shame to their love pure.O Love, your eyes..
© Wilfred Owen