1 min read
Слушать(AI)A New Heaven To-On Active Service
Seeing we never found gay fairyland(Though still we crouched by bluebells moon by moon)And missed the tide of Lethe; yet are
For that new bridge that leaves old Styx half-spanned;
Nor ever unto Mecca caravanned;
Nor bugled Asgard, skilled in magic rune;
Nor yearned for far Nirvana, the sweet swoon,
And from high Paradise are cursed and banned;-Let's die home, ferry across the Channel!
Shall we live gods there.
Death shall be no sev'rance.
Weary cathedrals light new shrines for us.
To us, rough knees of boys shall ache with rev'rence.
Are not girls' breasts a clear, strong Acropole?-There our own mothers' tears shall heal us whole.
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Edward Salter Owen, MC (18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918) was an English poet and soldier. He was one of the leading poets of the First W
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
Wild With All Regrets
To Siegfried My arms have mutinied against me — brutes My fingers fidget like ten idle brats, My back's been stiff for hours, damned hours
Has Your Soul Sipped
Has your soul Of the sweetness of all sweets Has it well But yet hungers and sweats
The Young Soldier
It is not Without To one in Of life and its laughter,
I Saw His Round Mouths Crimson
[I saw his round mouth's crimson deepen as it fell], Like a Sun, in his last deep hour; Watched the magnificent recession of farewell, Clouding, half gleam, half glower,
