Miners Poem by Wilfred Owen

Miners

Rating: 3.3


There was a whispering in my hearth,
A sigh of the coal.
Grown wistful of a former earth
It might recall.

I listened for a tale of leaves
And smothered ferns,
Frond-forests; and the low, sly lives
Before the fawns.

My fire might show steam-phantoms simmer
From Time's old cauldron,
Before the birds made nests in summer,
Or men had children.

But the coals were murmuring of their mine,
And moans down there
Of boys that slept wry sleep, and men
Writhing for air.

And I saw white bones in the cinder-shard,
Bones without number.
For many hearts with coal are charred,
And few remember.

I thought of all that worked dark pits
Of war, and died
Digging the rock where Death reputes
Peace lies indeed.

Comforted years will sit soft-chaired
In rooms of amber;
The years will stretch their hands, well-cheered
By our lifes' ember.

The centuries will burn rich loads
With which we groaned,
Whose warmth shall lull their dreaming lids,
While songs are crooned.
But they will not dream of us poor lads
Left in the ground.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Joanna Linden 02 March 2008

One of the most moving poems I have ever read.

2 3 Reply
Haidee Majola 27 July 2018

The comforts we might take for granted...fire and warmth of a coal fire come at a high price either to creation or to other humans...written with passion.

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Mahtab Bangalee 27 July 2018

Excellent - and Yes The centuries will burn rich loads With which we groaned, //// O into my hearth the fire makes an earth which is valid for immortal so try it to grasp all in no rental and greater part it loses in slipping time by the way all regret moisturizes it ink lime on the sense of regretful the heart wants to hide its noble birth /// excellent

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Bernard F. Asuncion 27 July 2018

Another fine poem by Wilfred Owen...10++++

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Robert Murray Smith 27 July 2018

An excellent write.- - - - - - -

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1 4 Reply
Anil Kumar Panda 27 July 2018

Being a miner I can understand the hardships and risks one has to face in mines. Loved the poems so much. felt somewhat related. A great poem indeed on the lives of miners.10+++++++++

2 2 Reply
Glen Kappy 27 July 2018

and what if we remembered where our food comes from—those that planted, tended, and harvested it; were they paid fairly? exposed to poisons? treated fairly? or remembered where our clothing comes from—those responsible for the growing or the making of it, the sewing of it... how much we take for granted! we'd do well to remember and appreciate and, in so doing, hopefully, use less and be satisfied with enough. -gk

1 2 Reply
Dr Antony Theodore 27 July 2018

And I saw white bones in the cinder-shard, Bones without number. For many hearts with coal are charred, And few remember..facts of life of the miners.. sad, their dreamig lids, dreaming of us poor lads........ very fine poem. thanku. tony

2 1 Reply
Adrian Flett 27 July 2018

'us poor lads Left in the ground. The price some pay for others' warmth and comfort. Now the cost of coal burning is upon us all.

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Wilfred Owen

Wilfred Owen

Shropshire / England
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