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Bugles sang, saddening the evening air, And bugles answered, sorrowful to hear.
Voices of boys were by the river-side. Sleep mothered them; and left the twilight sad. The shadow of the morrow weighed on men.
Voices of old despondency resigned, Bowed by the shadow of the morrow, slept.
( ) dying tone Of receding voices that will not return. The wailing of the high far-travelling shells And the deep cursing of the provoking ( )
The monstrous anger of our taciturn guns. The majesty of the insults of their mouths.
Wilfred Owen
Read poems about / on: anger, river, sad, sleep, star
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