Anthem For Doomed Youth
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 good-byes.
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.
Wilfred Owen's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Anthem For Doomed Youth by Wilfred Owen )
Did you read them?
Poem of the Day
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Nothing Gold Can Stay, Robert Frost
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- A Poison Tree, William Blake
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
- Heather Burns
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)