Wilfred Owen

For some reason, I woke up this morning thinking of English poet and soldier Wilfred Owen MC (March 18, 1893 – November 4, 1918), one of the leading poets of the First World War.

His war poetry on the horrors of trenches and gas warfare stood in contrast to the public perception of war at the time and to the confidently patriotic verse written by earlier war poets such as Rupert Brooke.

Owen was killed in action on November 4, 1918, a week before the war's end, at the age of 25.

Here is one of his more peaceful poems for your consideration:

Winter Song

The browns, the olives, and the yellows died,
And were swept up to heaven; where they glowed
Each dawn and set of sun till Christmastide,
And when the land lay pale for them, pale-snowed,
Fell back, and down the snow-drifts flamed and flowed.

From off your face, into the winds of winter,
The sun-brown and the summer-gold are blowing;
But they shall gleam with spiritual glinter,
When paler beauty on your brows falls snowing,
And through those snows my looks shall be soft-going.

--Wilfred Owen