'When lo! An angel called him out of heaven,
Saying, Lay not a hand upon that lad,
But the old man would not so, but slew his son,
And half the seed of Europe, one by one.'
From: The Parable of the Old man and the Young.
Wilfred Owen
Dead at twenty-five, poet and chronicler
of a war too horrible to contemplate.
Genius touched the soul of one so young
to leave these images of terrible desolation,
of youth plucked before their sap had risen.
Amongst them you, young soldier-poet,
to whom I dedicate this 'in memoriam.'
Great poem to a great poet.It amazes me that after reading such graphic poems as those by Wilfred Owen people still send their sons to war...duh! !
I looked up this poem because Francis Duggan had valued it. I must say the first four lines made me go wow wow right between the eyes and inspired a new interest in Wilfred Owen. thanks
A great poem you have written here Jerry about a young soldier poet who did not live to achieve his full potential
I came to Wilfred Owen's astounding chronicle of pathos singing in a performance of Britten's War Requiem as part of a chorus of over 200 voices. As I struggled to stop trembling at the concert's end, I looked up and saw at least 100 women weeping.
Darling, your love for Wilfred Owen (like a son) flows through your words in this wonderful tribute to an exceptional poet and a brave young man. This one always brings tears. love, Allie xxxx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful Jerry. I love Wlfred Owens poems, they are so moving and give such a picture of life in the trenches etc., what an experience for any young lad. A great legacy left for us. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX