Wilfred Owen

(1893-1918 / Shropshire / England)

Wilfred Owen Poems

1. On My Songs 4/1/2010
2. Sonnet To My Friend - With An Identity Disc 4/1/2010
3. My Shy Hand 4/1/2010
4. Maundy Thursday 4/1/2010
5. Sonnet: On Seeing A Piece Of Our Heavy Artillery Brought Into Action 4/1/2010
6. Shadwell Stair 4/1/2010
7. Antaeus: [a Fragment] 4/1/2010
8. Song Of Songs 4/1/2010
9. The Calls [unfinished] 1/1/2004
10. O World Of Many Worlds 4/1/2010
11. Preface 1/3/2003
12. Spells And Incantations 1/3/2003
13. Hospital Barge At Cerisy 1/1/2004
14. On Seeing A Piece Of Our Heavy Artillery Brought Into Action 12/31/2002
15. On Seeing A Piece Of Our Artillery Brought Into Action 1/3/2003
16. The Calls 1/3/2003
17. Storm 4/1/2010
18. Schoolmistress 1/3/2003
19. The Unreturning 4/1/2010
20. Music 1/3/2003
21. Six O'Clock In Princes Street 1/3/2003
22. Red Lips Are Not So Red 1/1/2004
23. Hospital Barge 1/3/2003
24. Training 1/3/2003
25. Uriconium: An Ode 1/3/2003
26. Le Christianisme 1/3/2003
27. From My Diary, July 1914 4/1/2010
28. The Chances 12/31/2002
29. Has Your Soul Sipped? 1/3/2003
30. The Parable Of The Young Man And The Old 1/3/2003
31. I Saw His Round Mouth's Crimson 1/3/2003
32. The Roads Also 1/3/2003
33. The Kind Ghosts 1/3/2003
34. With An Identity Disc 1/3/2003
35. Beauty: [notes For An Unfinished Poem] 1/1/2004
36. Happiness 1/3/2003
37. Smile, Smile, Smile 12/31/2002
38. A Terre (Being The Philosophy Of Many Soldiers) 1/3/2003
39. The Dead-Beat 12/31/2002
40. Miners 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Wilfred Owen

Dulce Et Decorum Est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned out backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! - An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.- ...

Read the full of Dulce Et Decorum Est

Hospital Barge

Budging the sluggard ripples of the Somme,
A barge round old Cérisy slowly slewed.
Softly her engines down the current screwed,
And chuckled softly with contented hum,
Till fairy tinklings struck their croonings dumb.
The waters rumpling at the stern subdued;
The lock-gate took her bulging amplitude;
Gently from out the gurgling lock she swum.

[Hata Bildir]