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As bronze may be much beautified by lying in the dark damp soil, so men who fade in dust of warfare fade fairer, and sorrow blooms their soul.

Wilfred Owen

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Wilfred Owen
Age: 25 †
Born: 1893
Born: March 18
Died: 1918
Died: November 4
Poet
Writer
Oswestry
Shropshire
Wilfred Edward Salter Owen
Owen
Lying
Damp
May
Fade
Soul
Fades
Much
Warfare
Men
Soil
Beautified
Dust
Fairer
Sorrow
Blooms
Dark
Bronze

More quotes by Wilfred Owen

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All the poet can do today is warn. That is why true Poets must be truthful.
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And some cease feeling Even themselves or for themselves. Dullness best solves The tease and doubt of shelling
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The English say, Yours Truly, and mean it. The Italians say, I kiss your feet, and mean, I kick your head.
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If I have to be a soldier I must be a good one, anything else is unthinkable
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This book is not about heroes. English poetry is not yet fit to speak of them. Nor is it about deeds, or lands, nor anything about glory, honour, might, majesty, dominion, or power, except War. Above all I am not concerned with Poetry. My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity.
Wilfred Owen
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My soul's a little grief, grappling your chest, To climb your throat on sobs easily chased On other sighs and wiped by fresher winds.
Wilfred Owen
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So secretly, like wrongs hushed-up, they went.
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Ambition may be defined as the willingness to receive any number of hits on the nose.
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I was a boy when I first realized that the fullest life liveable was a Poet's
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Above all I am not concerned with Poetry. My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity.
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When I begin to eliminate from the list all those professions which are impossible from a financial point of view and then those which I feel disinclined to-it leaves nothing
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The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds, And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
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Numbers of the old people cannot read. Those who can seldom do
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Dead men may envy living mites in cheese, Or good germs even. Microbes have their joys, And subdivide, and never come to death.
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I am only conscious of any satisfaction in Scientific Reading or thinking when it rounds off into a poetical generality and vagueness.
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And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall, By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.
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I thought of all that worked dark pits Of war, and died Digging the rock where Death reputes Peace lies indeed.
Wilfred Owen
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Escape? There is one unwatched way: your eyes. O Beauty! Keep me good that secret gate.
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Be bullied, be outraged, by killed, but do not kill.
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All theological lore is becoming distasteful to me.
Wilfred Owen