Poems by Wilfred Owen
Arms and the Boy
... Lend him to stroke these blind, blunt bullet-heads ...
Happiness
... Have we not stolen too strange and sorrowful wrongs ...
On Seeing A Piece Of Our Artillery Brought Into Action
... Our gold in shapes of flame, our breaths in storm ...
The Parable Of The Old Man And The Young
... Then Abram bound the youth with belts and straps, ...
The Send-Off
... Their breasts were stuck all white with wreath and spray ...
Smile, Smile, Smile
... Say: How they smile! They're happy now, poor things ...
Exposure
... IIPale flakes with lingering stealth come feeling for our faces -- ...
Asleep
... Above these clouds, these rains, these sleets of lead, ...
Greater Love
... When I behold eyes blinded in my stead!Your slender attitude ...
Mental Cases
... -- These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished ...
Winter Song
... Fell back, and down the snow-drifts flamed and flowed ...
Spring Offensive
... No alarms Of bugles, no high flags, no clamorous haste -- ...
The Parable Of The Old Men And The Young
... Then Abram bound the youth with belts and straps, ...
Apologia Pro Poemate Meo
... With the soft silk of eyes that look and long,By Joy, whose ribbon slips, -- ...
A Terre
... never shall. Both arms have mutinied against me -- brutes ...
