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And Death fell with me, like a deepening moan. And He, picking a manner of worm, which half had hid Its bruises in the earth, but crawled no further, Showed me its feet, the feet of many men, And the fresh-severed head of it, my head.
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
Head
Worm
Half
Picking
Death
Worms
Earth
Showed
Crawled
Many
Fell
Severed
Men
Manner
Deepening
Like
Fresh
Moan
Feet
Bruises
More quotes by Wilfred Owen
I thought of all that worked dark pits Of war, and died Digging the rock where Death reputes Peace lies indeed.
Wilfred Owen
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
And some cease feeling Even themselves or for themselves. Dullness best solves The tease and doubt of shelling
Wilfred Owen
The English say, Yours Truly, and mean it. The Italians say, I kiss your feet, and mean, I kick your head.
Wilfred Owen
Those who, like the beasts, have no such Hope, pass their old age shrouded with an inward gloom.
Wilfred Owen
I am only conscious of any satisfaction in Scientific Reading or thinking when it rounds off into a poetical generality and vagueness.
Wilfred Owen
Strange friend,' I said,'here is no cause to mourn.' 'None,'said the other,'save the undone years, The hopelessness.Whatever hope is yours Was my life also I went hunting wild After the wildest beauty in the world.
Wilfred Owen
I am not concerned with Poetry. My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity. Yet these elegies are to this generation in no sense conciliatory. They may be to the next. All a poet can do today is warn. That is why the true Poets must be truthful.
Wilfred Owen
Walking abroad, one is the admiration of all little boys, and meets an approving glance from every eye of elderly.
Wilfred Owen
Be bullied, be outraged, by killed, but do not kill.
Wilfred Owen
If I have to be a soldier I must be a good one, anything else is unthinkable
Wilfred Owen
My subject is war, and the pity of war.
Wilfred Owen
Was it for this the clay grew tall? O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earth's sleep at all?
Wilfred Owen
All I ask is to be held above the barren wastes of want.
Wilfred Owen
I tried to peg out soldierly,--no use! One dies of war like any old disease.
Wilfred Owen
Heart, you were never hot Nor large, nor full like hearts made great with shot
Wilfred Owen
Courage was mine, and I had mystery, Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery: To miss the march of this retreating world Into vain citadels that are not walled.
Wilfred Owen
I, too, saw God through mud
Wilfred Owen
Soldiers may grow a soul when turned to fronds, But here the thing's best left at home with friends.
Wilfred Owen
Ambition may be defined as the willingness to receive any number of hits on the nose.
Wilfred Owen