The browns, the olives, and the yellows died,
And were swept up to heaven; where they glowed
Each dawn and set of sun till Christmastide,
And when the land lay pale for them, pale-snowed,
Fell back, and down the snow-drifts flamed and flowed.
From off your face, into the winds of winter,
The sun-brown and the summer-gold are blowing;
But they shall gleam with spiritual glinter,
When paler beauty on your brows falls snowing,
And through those snows my looks shall be soft-going.
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 (Winter Song by Wilfred Owen )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
Did you read them?
- Romantic Blue, Sandra Feldman
- This woman's my guilty pleasure, Mark Heathcote
- Him, Brianna Kimball
- Belonging., megan selepe
- Drive from within in., megan selepe
- Passion, megan selepe
- It wokes me up, Didith Marcelo
- World of Joy, sherif monem
- JOEL OSTEEN POEM = CHILD OF GOD, Tom Zart
- Brick, Catya Prager