Wilfred Owen

(1893-1918 / Shropshire / England)

Wilfred Owen Poems

1. [i Saw His Round Mouth's Crimson] 1/1/2004
2. 1914 1/3/2003
3. A New Heaven 1/3/2003
4. A Terre 12/31/2002
5. A Terre (Being The Philosophy Of Many Soldiers) 1/3/2003
6. An Imperial Elegy 1/3/2003
7. Antaeus: [a Fragment] 4/1/2010
8. Anthem For Doomed Youth 12/31/2002
9. Apologia Pro Poemate Meo 12/31/2002
10. Arms And The Boy 12/31/2002
11. As Bronze May Be Much Beautified 1/3/2003
12. Asleep 1/3/2003
13. At A Calvary Near The Ancre 12/31/2002
14. Beauty 1/3/2003
15. Beauty: [notes For An Unfinished Poem] 1/1/2004
16. But I Was Looking At The Permanent Stars 1/3/2003
17. Conscious 12/31/2002
18. Cramped In That Funnelled Hole 1/3/2003
19. Disabled 12/31/2002
20. Dulce Et Decorum Est 12/31/2002
21. Elegy In April And September 1/3/2003
22. Exposure 12/31/2002
23. From My Diary, July 1914 4/1/2010
24. Futility 12/31/2002
25. Greater Love 12/31/2002
26. Happiness 1/3/2003
27. Has Your Soul Sipped? 1/3/2003
28. Hospital Barge 1/3/2003
29. Hospital Barge At Cerisy 1/1/2004
30. I Know The Music 1/3/2003
31. I Saw His Round Mouth's Crimson 1/3/2003
32. Insensibility 12/31/2002
33. Inspection 1/3/2003
34. Le Christianisme 1/3/2003
35. Maundy Thursday 4/1/2010
36. Mental Cases 12/31/2002
37. Miners 1/3/2003
38. Music 1/3/2003
39. My Shy Hand 4/1/2010
40. O World Of Many Worlds 4/1/2010
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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