Wilfred Owen Quotes - Page 3

The English say, Yours Truly, and mean it. The Italians say, I kiss your feet, and mean, I kick your head.

The centuries will burn rich loads With which we groaned, Whose warmth shall lull their dreaming lids, While songs are crooned: But they will not dream of us poor lads, Left in the ground.

I have perceived much beauty In the hoarse oaths that kept our courage straight; Heard music in the silentness of duty; Found peace where shell-storms spouted reddest spate.

I am only conscious of any satisfaction in Scientific Reading or thinking when it rounds off into a poetical generality and vagueness.

Was it for this the clay grew tall?

Was it for this the clay grew tall? O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earth's sleep at all?

Heart, you were never hot Nor large, nor full like hearts made great with shot

Walking abroad, one is the admiration of all little boys, and meets an approving glance from every eye of elderly.

It seemed that out of battle I escaped Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped Through granites which titanic wars had groined.

I thought of all that worked dark pits Of war, and died Digging the rock where Death reputes Peace lies indeed.

The Young Soldier It is not death Without hereafter To one in dearth Of life and its laughter, Nor the sweet murder Dealt slow and even Unto the martyr Smiling at heaven: It is the smile Faint as a (waning) myth, Faint, and exceeding small On a boy's murdered mouth.

Dead men may envy living mites in cheese, Or good germs even. Microbes have their joys, And subdivide, and never come to death.

And Death fell with me, like a deepening moan. And He, picking a manner of worm, which half had hid Its bruises in the earth, but crawled no further, Showed me its feet, the feet of many men, And the fresh-severed head of it, my head.

My soul's a little grief, grappling your chest, To climb your throat on sobs; easily chased On other sighs and wiped by fresher winds.

Escape? There is one unwatched way: your eyes. O Beauty! Keep me good that secret gate.

When I begin to eliminate from the list all those professions which are impossible from a financial point of view and then those which I feel disinclined to-it leaves nothing

For by my glee might many men have laughed, And of my weeping may something have been left, Which must die now.

Whatever mourns when many leave these shores: Whatever shares The eternal reciprocity of tears.