Thursday, April 23, 2015

Poem: "Anthem for Doomed Youth " by Wilfred Owen



What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
      — Only the monstrous anger of the guns.

      Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle

Can patter out their hasty orisons.

No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;

      Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,—

The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;

      And bugles calling for them from sad shires.


What candles may be held to speed them all?

      Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes

Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.

      The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;

Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,

And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.



by Wilfred Owen




For more information about the poet, Wilfred Owen, see:


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wilfred_Owen


1 comment:

  1. How lucky we are that Wilfred was able to write with such perception at such a young age...and how sickening is war!

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