Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Edward Salter Owen MCwas an English poet and soldier, one of the leading poets of the First World War. His shocking, realistic war poetry on the horrors of trenches and gas warfare was heavily influenced by his friend and mentor Siegfried Sassoon, and stood in stark contrast both to the public perception of war at the time and to the confidently patriotic verse written by earlier war poets such as Rupert Brooke. Among his best-known works – most of which...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth18 March 1893
beauty war storm
I have perceived much beauty In the hoarse oaths that kept our courage straight; Heard music in the silentness of duty; Found peace where shell-storms spouted reddest spate.
home soldier soul
Soldiers may grow a soul when turned to fronds, But here the thing's best left at home with friends.
men glee may
For by my glee might many men have laughed, And of my weeping may something have been left, Which must die now.
So secretly, like wrongs hushed-up, they went.
tears share reciprocity
Whatever mourns when many leave these shores: Whatever shares The eternal reciprocity of tears.
historical soldier unthinkable
If I have to be a soldier I must be a good one, anything else is unthinkable
life sweet laughter
The Young Soldier It is not death Without hereafter To one in dearth Of life and its laughter, Nor the sweet murder Dealt slow and even Unto the martyr Smiling at heaven: It is the smile Faint as a (waning) myth, Faint, and exceeding small On a boy's murdered mouth.
dream children cancer
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,-- My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.
fighting clay sunbeams
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
truth today poet
All the poet can do today is warn. That is why true Poets must be truthful.
war party horizon
The marvel is that we did not all die of cold. As a matter of fact, only one of my party actually froze to death before he could be got back, but I am not able to tell how many have ended up in hospital. We were marooned in a frozen desert. There was not a sign of life on the horizon and a thousand signs of death.
war eye boys
Walking abroad, one is the admiration of all little boys, and meets an approving glance from every eye of elderly.
eye secret way
Escape? There is one unwatched way: your eyes. O Beauty! Keep me good that secret gate.
jesus gun tears
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 every bayonet with His tears.