The Kind Ghosts
She sleeps on soft, last breaths; but no ghost looms
Out of the stillness of her palace wall,
Her wall of boys on boys and dooms on dooms.
She dreams of golden gardens and sweet glooms,
Not marvelling why her roses never fall
Nor what red mouths were torn to make their blooms.
The shades keep down which well might roam her hall.
Quiet their blood lies in her crimson rooms
And she is not afraid of their footfall.
They move not from her tapestries, their pall,
Nor pace her terraces, their hecatombs,
Lest aught she be disturbed, or grieved 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 (The Kind Ghosts by Wilfred Owen )
Did you read them?
- O Beija-flor, Von Kimball Barney
- A Sincere Apology, Tirupathi Chandrupatla
- Leaves in Colors, Tirupathi Chandrupatla
- Never Give Up, Lilly Emery
- sterilization process of our modern system, Anthony Cavuoti
- Kopje onder, Madrason writer
- five past three, Pradip Chattopadhyay
- Trapdoor, Pradip Chattopadhyay
- Gans Veer, Madrason writer
- Be What You Are, Lilly Emery
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep, Mary Elizabeth Frye
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- The Conclusion, Sir Walter Raleigh
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
- Heather Burns