Wilfred Owen

(1893-1918 / Shropshire / England)

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1914


War broke: and now the Winter of the world
With perishing great darkness closes in.
The foul tornado, centred at Berlin,
Is over all the width of Europe whirled,
Rending the sails of progress. Rent or furled
Are all Art's ensigns. Verse wails. Now begin
Famines of thought and feeling. Love's wine's thin.
The grain of human Autumn rots, down-hurled.

For after Spring had bloomed in early Greece,
And Summer blazed her glory out with Rome,
An Autumn softly fell, a harvest home,
A slow grand age, and rich with all increase.
But now, for us, wild Winter, and the need
Of sowings for new Spring, and blood for seed.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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Read poems about / on: autumn, winter, spring, war, summer, home, world

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  • * Sunprincess * (12/16/2013 6:08:00 PM)

    so very sad he was killed at the age of 25, a week before the armistice was signed...
    it's nice how he put four seasons in this poem.... (Report) Reply

  • Michael Morgan (12/16/2013 3:54:00 PM)

    It's really gross the way this smarmy poem avoids the issue of English responsibility for WW1 (Report) Reply

  • Manonton Dalan (12/16/2012 6:30:00 AM)

    war is, is always dreadful
    far so ugly than beautiful
    tears is life but otherwise
    mangled flesh, blind eyes
    yet blood-thirsty ground
    insatiable craves crown (Report) Reply

  • Kevin Straw (12/16/2009 7:11:00 AM)

    A great prophetic poem foreshadowing T S Eliot's 'The Wasteland' and the retreat of modern art after WWI into abstraction and subjectivity. The more I read Owen the bigger he gets as a poet. (Report) Reply

  • Ramesh T A (12/16/2009 2:16:00 AM)

    Seasonal change of life situation due to war depicted by Wilfred Owen weaves a fabric rich in texture to remember that war as souvenir beautiful! (Report) Reply

Read all 8 comments »

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