Winter Song Poem by Wilfred Owen

Winter Song

Rating: 2.8


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.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Kevin Patrick 03 January 2015

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

4 1 Reply

Wilfred Owen

Shropshire / England
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