poet Wilfred Owen

Wilfred Owen

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Winter Song

The browns, the olives, and the yellows died,
And were swept up to heaven; where they glowed
Each dawn and set of sun till Christmastide,
And when the land lay pale for them, pale-snowed,
Fell back, and down the snow-drifts flamed and flowed.

From off your face, into the winds of winter,
The sun-brown and the summer-gold are blowing;
But they shall gleam with spiritual glinter,
When paler beauty on your brows falls snowing,
And through those snows my looks shall be soft-going.

Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

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Comments about Winter Song by Wilfred Owen

  • Kevin PatrickKevin Patrick (1/3/2015 7:57:00 PM)

    A masterstroke work, that weaves together a haunting vision of winters stark beauty in an eloquent poem to one of my favourite seasons.

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Read poems about / on: winter, snow, summer, beauty, heaven, sun, song, wind