Wilfred Owen

(1893-1918 / Shropshire / England)

Wilfred Owen Poems

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

The Chances

I mind as 'ow the night afore that show
Us five got talking, -- we was in the know,
"Over the top to-morrer; boys, we're for it,
First wave we are, first ruddy wave; that's tore it."
"Ah well," says Jimmy, -- an' 'e's seen some scrappin' --
"There ain't more nor five things as can 'appen;
Ye get knocked out; else wounded -- bad or cushy;
Scuppered; or nowt except yer feeling mushy."

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