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before they fell。
But what say such as from existence' brink Ventured but drave too
swift to sink。 The few who rushed in the body to enter hell； And there out…
fiending all its fiends and flames With superhuman inhumanities； Long…
famous glories； immemorial shames And crawling slowly back； have by
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Poems by Wilfred Owen
degrees Regained cool peaceful air in wonder Why speak they not of
comrades that went under？
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Poems by Wilfred Owen
The Chances
I mind as 'ow the night afore that show Us five got talking； we was
in the know； 〃Over the top to…morrer； boys； we're for it； First wave we are；
first ruddy wave； that's tore it。〃 〃Ah well；〃 says Jimmy； an' 'e's seen
some scrappin' 〃There ain't more nor five things as can 'appen； Ye get
knocked out； else wounded bad or cushy； Scuppered； or nowt except yer
feeling mushy。〃
One of us got the knock…out； blown to chops。 T'other was hurt； like；
losin' both 'is props。 An' one； to use the word of 'ypocrites； 'Ad the
misfortoon to be took by Fritz。 Now me； I wasn't scratched； praise God
Almighty （Though next time please I'll thank 'im for a blighty）； But poor
young Jim； 'e's livin' an' 'e's not； 'E reckoned 'e'd five chances； an' 'e's 'ad；
'E's wounded； killed； and pris'ner； all the lot The ruddy lot all rolled in
one。 Jim's mad。
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Poems by Wilfred Owen
S。 I。 W。
〃I will to the King； And offer him consolation in his trouble； For that
man there has set his teeth to die； And being one that hates obedience；
Discipline； and orderliness of life； I cannot mourn him。〃 W。 B。 Yeats。
Patting goodbye； doubtless they told the lad He'd always show the Hun
a brave man's face； Father would sooner him dead than in disgrace； Was
proud to see him going； aye； and glad。 Perhaps his Mother whimpered
how she'd fret Until he got a nice； safe wound to nurse。 Sisters would wish
girls too could shoot； charge； curse； 。 。 。 Brothers would send his
favourite cigarette； Each week； month after month； they wrote the same；
Thinking him sheltered in some Y。M。 Hut； Where once an hour a bullet
missed its aim And misses teased the hunger of his brain。 His eyes grew
old with wincing； and his hand Reckless with ague。 Courage leaked； as
sand From the best sandbags after years of rain。 But never leave； wound；
fever； trench…foot； shock； Untrapped the wretch。 And death seemed still
withheld For torture of lying machinally shelled； At the pleasure of this
world's Powers who'd run amok。
He'd seen men shoot their hands； on night patrol； Their people never
knew。 Yet they were vile。 〃Death sooner than dishonour； that's the style！〃
So Father said。
One dawn； our wire patrol Carried him。 This time； Death had not
missed。 We could do nothing； but wipe his bleeding cough。 Could it be
accident？ Rifles go off 。 。 。 Not sniped？ No。 （Later they found the
English ball。）
It was the reasoned crisis of his soul。 Against the fires that would not
burn him whole But kept him for death's perjury and scoff And life's half…
promising； and both their riling。
With him they buried the muzzle his teeth had kissed； And truthfully
wrote the Mother 〃Tim died smiling。〃
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Poems by Wilfred Owen
Futility
Move him into the sun Gently its touch awoke him once； At home；
whispering of fields unsown。 Always it woke him； even in France； Until
this morning and this snow。 If anything might rouse him now The kind old
sun will know。
Think how it wakes the seeds Woke； once； the clays of a cold star。
Are limbs so dear…achieved； are sides Full…nerved； still warm； too hard
to stir？ Was it for this the clay grew tall？ O what made fatuous
sunbeams toil To break earth's sleep at all？
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Smile； Smile； Smile
Head to limp head； the sunk…eyed wounded scanned Yesterday's Mail；
the casualties （typed small） And （large） Vast Booty from our Latest Haul。
Also； they read of Cheap Homes； not yet planned； For； said the paper；
〃When this war is done The men's first instinct will be making homes。
Meanwhile their foremost need is aerodromes； It being certain war has just
begun。 Peace would do wrong to our undying dead； The sons we offered
might regret they died If we got nothing lasting in their stead。 We must be
solidly indemnified。 Though all be worthy Victory which all bought； We
rulers sitting in this ancient spot Would wrong our very selves if we forgot
The greatest glory will be theirs who fought； Who kept this nation in
integrity。〃 Nation？ The half…limbed readers did not chafe But smiled at
one another curiously Like secret men who know their secret safe。 This is
the thing they know and never speak； That England one by one had fled to
France （Not many elsewhere now save under France）。 Pictures of these
broad smiles appear each week； And people in whose voice real feeling
rings Say： How they smile！ They're happy now； poor things。
23rd September 1918。
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Poems by Wilfred Owen
Conscious
His fingers wake； and flutter up the bed。 His eyes come open with a
pull of will； Helped by the yellow may…flowers by his head。 A blind…cord
drawls across the window…sill 。 。 。 How smooth the floor of the ward is！
what a rug！ And who's that talking； somewhere out of sight？ Why are they
laughing？ What's inside that jug？ 〃Nurse！ Doctor！〃 〃Yes； all right； all
right。〃
But sudden dusk bewilders all the air There seems no time to want a
drink of water。 Nurse looks so far away。 And everywhere Music and roses
burnt through crimson slaughter。 Cold； cold； he's cold； and yet so hot： And
there's no light to see the voices by No time to dream； and ask he
knows not what。
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A Terre
（Being the philosophy of many Soldiers。）
Sit on the bed； I'm blind； and three parts shell； Be careful； can't shake
hands now； never shall。 Both arms have mutinied against me brutes。 My
fingers fidget like ten idle brats。
I tried to peg out soldierly no use！ One dies of war like any old
disease。 This bandage feels like pennies on my eyes。 I have my medals？
Discs to make eyes close。 My glorious ribbons？ Ripped from my own
back In scarlet shreds。 （That's for your poetry book。）
A short life and a merry one； my brick！ We used to say we'd hate to
live dead old； Yet now 。 。 。 I'd willingly be puffy； bald； And patriotic。
Buffers catch from boys At least the jokes hurled at them。 I suppose Littl