Has Your Soul Sipped
Has your soul
Of the sweetness of all sweets?
Has it well
But yet hungers and sweats?
I have been
Of a strange sweetness,
All fancy
Past all supposing.
Passing the
Of the rubies of morning,
Or the soft
Of the moon; or the
Known to the
Of her mystery and mourning.
Sweeter than
Of the wild
Or than love's
After life's gall.
Sweeter than
Of living leaves,
Sweeter than
Of dying loves.
Sweeter than
And dreams
To one in
Or life and its laughter.
Or the proud
The victor
Or the last
Of all wars.
Or the sweet
After long
Unto the
Smiling at God;
To me was that smile,
Faint as a wan, worn myth,
Faint and exceeding small,
On a boy's murdered mouth.
Though from his
The life-tide
There was no
On his lips.
But with the bitter
And the
All his life's sweetness
Into a smile.
Wilfred Owen
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'Oh Jesus Christ I'm hit,' he said; and died Whether he vainly cursed or prayed indeed,
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Happy are men who yet before they are Can let their veins run cold Whom no compassion Or makes their