Wilfred Owen

(1893-1918 / Shropshire / England)

With An Identity Disc - Poem by Wilfred Owen

If ever I dreamed of my dead name
High in the heart of London, unsurpassed
By Time for ever, and the Fugitive, Fame,
There seeking a long sanctuary at last,

I better that; and recollect with shame
How once I longed to hide it from life's heats
Under those holy cypresses, the same
That shade always the quiet place of Keats,

Now rather thank I God there is no risk
Of gravers scoring it with florid screed,
But let my death be memoried on this disc.
Wear it, sweet friend. Inscribe no date nor deed.
But may thy heart-beat kiss it night and day,
Until the name grow vague and wear away.

Comments about With An Identity Disc by Wilfred Owen

  • (6/20/2018 5:02:00 AM)

    mannn weee neeedddd omeeee weeddddd (Report) Reply

    2 person liked.
    3 person did not like.
  • (6/20/2018 5:02:00 AM)

    got any weed bruv dab (Report) Reply

  • (6/20/2018 4:58:00 AM)

    this poem is sad as sad as xxxtentacion and his pathetic death lol (Report) Reply

  • (3/20/2018 2:28:00 PM)

    Dis is like old language an dat innit uhhhhh (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: london, kiss, friend, identity, death, heart, god, night, time, life, thanks, dream

Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

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