From My Diary July 1914
Leaves Murmuring by miriads in the shimmering trees.
Lives Wakening with wonder in the Pyrenees.
Birds Cheerily chirping in the early day.
Bards Singing of summer, scything thro' the hay.
Bees Shaking the heavy dews from bloom and frond.
Boys Bursting the surface of the ebony pond.
Flashes Of swimmers carving thro' the sparkling cold.
Fleshes Gleaming with wetness to the morning gold.
A mead Bordered about with warbling water brooks.
A maid Laughing the love-laugh with me; proud of looks.
The heat Throbbing between the upland and the peak.
Her heart Quivering with passion to my pressed cheek.
Braiding Of floating flames across the mountain brow.
Brooding Of stillness; and a sighing of the bough.
Stirs Of leaflets in the gloom; soft petal-showers;
Stars Expanding with the starr'd nocturnal flowers.
Wilfred Owen
Other author posts
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
The Sentry
We'd found an old Boche dug-out, and he knew, And gave us hell, for shell on frantic Hammered on top, but never quite burst through Rain, guttering down in waterfalls of slime,
The Young Soldier
It is not Without To one in Of life and its laughter,
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 twilight sad