Wilfred Owen

What passing bells for these who die as cattle?Only the monstrous anger of the guns.Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattleCan read more

What passing bells for these who die as cattle?Only the monstrous anger of the guns.Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattleCan patter out their hasty orisons. - Anthem for Doomed Youth.

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?

My arms have mutinied against me — brutes!My fingers fidget like ten idle brats,My back's been stiff for hours, damned read more

My arms have mutinied against me — brutes!My fingers fidget like ten idle brats,My back's been stiff for hours, damned hours.Death never gives his squad a Stand-at-ease.

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.

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...