Wilfred Owen

(1893-1918 / Shropshire / England)

Anthem For Doomed Youth - Poem by Wilfred Owen

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.


Comments about Anthem For Doomed Youth by Wilfred Owen

  • Edward Kofi Louis (11/29/2018 12:32:00 PM)


    The monstrous anger of the guns! ! !

    Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
    (Report) Reply

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Kumarmani Mahakul (11/29/2018 6:57:00 AM)


    This is beautiful poem on war having touching expression and nice collocation. (Report) Reply

  • (11/29/2018 4:37:00 AM)


    a fantastic poem for such hopeless and tragic circumstance (Report) Reply

  • Mahtab Bangalee (11/29/2018 1:08:00 AM)


    lovely penned -

    Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
    And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds

    /// like it
    (Report) Reply

  • Bernard F. Asuncion (11/29/2018 12:47:00 AM)


    Such a great write about war by Wilfred Owen.............. (Report) Reply

  • (11/28/2018 8:49:00 AM)


    uslpyybdoyslpawwidnlyidnciylmonusnb (Report) Reply

  • (11/28/2018 8:47:00 AM)


    I feel a little bit touched by this poem but its sounds a little bit like a female robot x (Report) Reply

  • (11/28/2018 8:43:00 AM)


    good poem sounds a little bit robotic (Report) Reply

  • (11/27/2018 12:19:00 PM)


    This site is dumb and pretty shit to be onest. (Report) Reply

  • Timothy Goodmansen (11/25/2018 12:39:00 AM)


    I think this resonates with a lot of people nobody really sees us when we are at our most open. (Report) Reply

  • (11/5/2018 6:23:00 AM)


    these poems are great because they tell u about war (Report) Reply

  • (11/5/2018 6:21:00 AM)


    these poems are great to tell u about war (Report) Reply

  • (11/5/2018 6:20:00 AM)


    these poems are great because it tells u about war (Report) Reply

  • (5/20/2018 9:55:00 PM)


    ! ! I can't understand any of this!
    I think it's being a metaphor of challenges in life.
    (Report) Reply

    (11/4/2018 1:09:00 PM)

    Are you really that dumb!

  • (3/22/2018 2:52:00 AM)


    Had always heard mention of this poet. But actually reading his poems. Blows me away. (Report) Reply

  • (2/6/2018 6:07:00 AM)


    this is so sad but true! ! (Report) Reply

  • (11/28/2017 6:13:00 PM)


    THIS POEM IS NOT 4 ME (Report) Reply

  • (11/11/2017 12:05:00 AM)


    As true now as it was then hint hint ...... hint. (Report) Reply

  • (4/26/2017 8:05:00 AM)


    The theme of the poem is that the usual funeral rituals are not available to soldiers killed in battle. In the first eight lines, they are replaced by gunfire and the like, on the battlefield. This is meant ironically, and bitterly. Line eight (the bugles) forms the bridge. The last six lines return to the homeland, where the usual funeral rituals (holding candles, holding a pall over the coffin, placing flowers on the grave, drawing down blinds as a sign of respect as the cortege passes) are replaced by intangibles: the wet eyes, the pale faces, the tenderness of the bereaved, and 'each slow dusk'. The poem is extraordinarily well crafted, and avoids the horror scenarios which in my opinion mar some of Owen's other poems. I particularly admire his courage in using a pun in a serious poem (pallor/pall) . (Report) Reply

  • Sylvaonyema Uba (2/6/2017 11:54:00 PM)


    ...for these who die as cattle?

    Good rhetoric expression.
    A well expressed poem.

    Sylva.
    (Report) Reply

    (11/8/2017 2:06:00 PM)

    It means no one cares that they died

Read all 56 comments »

# 87 poem on top 500 Poems

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Read poems about / on: anger, sad, flower, girl



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002

Poem Edited: Thursday, June 30, 2011


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