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29 de may. de 2024 · 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. Wilfred Owen.
24 de may. de 2024 · Wilfred Edward Salter Owen MC (18 March 1893 – 4 November 1918) was an English poet and soldier. He was one of the leading poets of the First World War. His war poetry on the horrors of trenches and gas warfare was much influenced by his mentor Siegfried Sassoon and stood in contrast to the public perception of war at the time and to the confidently patriotic verse written by earlier war ...
26 de may. de 2024 · Disabled. He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark, And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey, Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park. Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn, Voices of play and pleasure after day, Till gathering sleep had mothered them from him. About this time Town used to swing so gay.
31 de may. de 2024 · Wilfred Owen. Rate: (1) Poem topics: beauty, heaven, snow, summer, winter, brown, face, gold, soft, spiritual, dawn, sun, Print This Poem, Rhyme Scheme Submit Spanish Translation Submit German Translation Submit French Translation Wild With All Regrets Poem Cramped In That Funnelled Hole Poem>>
Hace 3 días · In all my dreams before my helpless sight. He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace. Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil 's sick of sin, If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood.
15 de may. de 2024 · Uriconium: An Ode. It lieth low near merry England's heart. Like a long-buried sin; and Englishmen. Forget that in its death their sires had part. And, like a sin, Time lays it bare again. To tell of races wronged, And ancient glories suddenly overcast, And treasures flung to fire and rabble wrath. If thou hast ever longed.
21 de may. de 2024 · Sing me at morn but only with your laugh; Even as Spring that laugheth into leaf; Even as Love that laugheth after Life. Sing me but only with your speech all day, As voluble leaflets do; let viols die; The least word of your lips is melody! Sing me at eve but only your sigh! Like lifting seas it solaceth; breathe so, Slowly and low, the sense that no songs say.
