1 Move him into the sun--
2 Gently its touch awoke him once,
3 At home, whispering of fields unsown.
4 Always it awoke him, even in France,
5 Until this morning and this snow.
6 If anything might rouse him now
7 The kind old sun will know.
8 Think how it wakes the seeds--
9 Woke, once, the clays of a cold star.
10 Are limbs so dear-achieved, are sides
11 Full-nerved,--still warm,--too hard to stir?
12 Was it for this the clay grew tall?
13 --O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
14 To break earth's sleep at all?
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 (Futility by Wilfred Owen )
Did you read them?
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- Alone, Maya Angelou
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
- Heather Burns
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
(1207 - 1273)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)