Wilfred Owen

Behold,A ram caught in a thicket by its horns;Offer the Ram of Pride instead of him.But the old man would read more

Behold,A ram caught in a thicket by its horns;Offer the Ram of Pride instead of him.But the old man would not so, but slew his son...

Now rather thank I God there is no riskOf gravers scoring it with florid screed.Let my inscription be this soldier's read more

Now rather thank I God there is no riskOf gravers scoring it with florid screed.Let my inscription be this soldier's disc.Wear it, sweet friend. Inscribe no date nor deed.But may thy heart-beat kiss it, night and day,Until the name grow blurred and fade away.

Move him into the sun —Gently its touch awoke him once,At home, whispering of fields unsown.Always it woke him, even read more

Move him into the sun —Gently its touch awoke him once,At home, whispering of fields unsown.Always it woke him, even in France,Until this morning and this snow.

Shall Life renew these bodies? Of a truthAll death will he annul, all tears assuage?Or fill these void veins full read more

Shall Life renew these bodies? Of a truthAll death will he annul, all tears assuage?Or fill these void veins full again with youthAnd wash with an immortal water age?

Was it for this the clay grew tall?

Was it for this the clay grew tall?