Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Edward Salter Owen MCwas an English poet and soldier, one of the leading poets of the First World War. His shocking, realistic war poetry on the horrors of trenches and gas warfare was heavily influenced by his friend and mentor Siegfried Sassoon, and stood in stark contrast both to the public perception of war at the time and to the confidently patriotic verse written by earlier war poets such as Rupert Brooke. Among his best-known works – most of which...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth18 March 1893
views lists impossible
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
home force never-fear
Never fear: Thank Home, and Poetry, and the Force behind both.
reading thinking satisfaction
I am only conscious of any satisfaction in Scientific Reading or thinking when it rounds off into a poetical generality and vagueness.
bullied outraged
Be bullied, be outraged, by killed, but do not kill.
becoming theological distasteful
All theological lore is becoming distasteful to me.
spring tree doe
A Poem does not grow by jerks. As trees in Spring produce a new ring of tissue, so does every poet put forth a fresh outlay of stuff at the same season.
ministry asks
I don't ask myself, is the life congenial to me? But, am I fitted for, am I called to, the Ministry?
mean kissing feet
The English say, Yours Truly, and mean it. The Italians say, I kiss your feet, and mean, I kick your head.
hunting years world
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.
death men feet
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.
death war lying
I thought of all that worked dark pits Of war, and died Digging the rock where Death reputes Peace lies indeed.
grief wind soul
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.
war heart hot
Heart, you were never hot Nor large, nor full like hearts made great with shot
war disease use
I tried to peg out soldierly,--no use! One dies of war like any old disease.