Anthem for Doomed Youth by Wilfred Owen

[erastes]

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, –
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk11 a drawing-down of blinds.

September - October, 1917

White Poppies for Peace

Comments

[mylodon.livejournal.com]

Wilfred Owen always gets to me.

[crawling-angel.livejournal.com]

I actually remember that one from Eng Lit at school. (I'm not big on poetry...am far too stupid).

Very atmospheric words...