Wilfred Owen

(1893-1918 / Shropshire / England)

Wilfred Owen Poems

41. A Terre 12/31/2002
42. The Show 12/31/2002
43. Smile, Smile, Smile 12/31/2002
44. With An Identity Disc 1/3/2003
45. The Dead-Beat 12/31/2002
46. S.I.W. 1/3/2003
47. Winter Song 1/3/2003
48. Inspection 1/3/2003
49. The Letter 1/3/2003
50. Conscious 12/31/2002
51. The Young Soldier 1/3/2003
52. Wild With All Regrets 12/31/2002
53. At A Calvary Near The Ancre 12/31/2002
54. Schoolmistress 1/3/2003
55. Insensibility 12/31/2002
56. Spring Offensive 12/31/2002
57. The Sentry 12/31/2002
58. But I Was Looking At The Permanent Stars 1/3/2003
59. The Parable Of The Old Man And The Young 12/31/2002
60. An Imperial Elegy 1/3/2003
61. The Send-Off 12/31/2002
62. Soldier's Dream 1/3/2003
63. [i Saw His Round Mouth's Crimson] 1/1/2004
64. Cramped In That Funnelled Hole 1/3/2003
65. Greater Love 12/31/2002
66. Apologia Pro Poemate Meo 12/31/2002
67. Elegy In April And September 1/3/2003
68. Strange Meeting 12/31/2002
69. The Last Laugh 1/3/2003
70. A New Heaven 1/3/2003
71. Beauty 1/3/2003
72. I Know The Music 1/3/2003
73. Arms And The Boy 12/31/2002
74. The Next War 1/3/2003
75. Mental Cases 12/31/2002
76. Futility 12/31/2002
77. Exposure 12/31/2002
78. Asleep 1/3/2003
79. 1914 1/3/2003
80. Disabled 12/31/2002

Comments about Wilfred Owen

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Best Poem of Wilfred Owen

Dulce Et Decorum Est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned out backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! - An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.- ...

Read the full of Dulce Et Decorum Est

Hospital Barge

Budging the sluggard ripples of the Somme,
A barge round old Cérisy slowly slewed.
Softly her engines down the current screwed,
And chuckled softly with contented hum,
Till fairy tinklings struck their croonings dumb.
The waters rumpling at the stern subdued;
The lock-gate took her bulging amplitude;
Gently from out the gurgling lock she swum.

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