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Wilfred Owen's Poetry, by first line

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  • My Shy Hand
    My shy hand shades a hermitage apart, -
    O large enough for thee, and thy brief hours.
    14 lines
  • Mental Cases
    Who are these? Why sit they here in twilight?
    Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows,
    31 lines, 4 comments
  • Greater Love
    Red lips are not so red
    As the stained stones kissed by the English dead.
    25 lines, 2 comments
  • Insensibility
    I
    Happy are men who yet before they are killed
    65 lines
  • Winter Song
    The browns, the olives, and the yellows died,
    And were swept up to heaven; where they glowed
    10 lines
  • The Young Soldier
    It is not death
    Without hereafter
    12 lines
  • Smile, Smile, Smile
    Head to limp head, the sunk-eyed wounded scanned
    Yesterday's Mail; the casualties (typed small)
    26 lines
  • The End
    After the blast of lightning from the east,
    The flourish of loud clouds, the Chariot throne,
    14 lines
  • Wild With All Regrets
    My arms have mutinied against me -- brutes!
    My fingers fidget like ten idle brats,
    38 lines
  • The Chances
    I mind as 'ow the night afore that show
    Us five got talking, -- we was in the know,
    18 lines, 1 comment
  • The Show
    My soul looked down from a vague height with Death,
    As unremembering how I rose or why,
    29 lines
  • The Unreturning
    Suddenly night crushed out the day and hurled
    Her remnants over cloud-peaks, thunder-walled.
    14 lines, 2 comments
  • The Wrestlers
    So neck to neck and obstinate knee to knee
    Wrestled those two; and peerless Heracles
    88 lines
  • Schoolmistress
    Schoolmistress
    Having, with bold Horatius, stamped her feet
    11 lines
  • A New Heaven (To-On Active Service)
    Seeing we never found gay fairyland
    (Though still we crouched by bluebells moon by moon)
    14 lines, 1 comment
  • The Roads Also
    The roads also have their wistful rest,
    When the weathercocks perch still and roost,
    20 lines
  • Beauty: [Notes for an unfinished poem]
    The beautiful, the fair, the elegant,
    Is that which pleases us, says Kant,
    26 lines
  • The Kind Ghosts
    She sleeps on soft, last breaths; but no ghost looms
    Out of the stillness of her palace wall,
    12 lines, 1 comment
  • Has Your Soul Sipped?
    Has your soul sipped
    Of the sweetness of all sweets?
    46 lines
  • Music
    I have been urged by earnest violins
    And drunk their mellow sorrows to the slake
    14 lines, 1 comment
  • Training
    Not this week nor this month dare I lie down
    In languour under lime trees or smooth smile.
    9 lines
  • Happiness
    Ever again to breathe pure happiness,
    So happy that we gave away our toy?
    14 lines, 1 comment
  • Miners
    There was a whispering in my hearth,
    A sigh of the coal.
    34 lines
  • Soldier's Dream
    I dreamed kind Jesus fouled the big-gun gears;
    And caused a permanent stoppage in all bolts;
    8 lines
  • Le Christianisme
    So the church Christ was hit and buried
    Under its rubbish and its rubble.
    8 lines, 1 comment
  • The Calls [unfinished]
    A dismal fog-hoarse siren howls at dawn.
    I watch the man it calls for, pushed and drawn
    27 lines
  • Inspection
    'You! What d'you mean by this?' I rapped.
    'You dare come on parade like this?'
    16 lines, 1 comment
  • 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.
    65 lines, 4 comments
  • Conscious
    His fingers wake, and flutter; up the bed.
    His eyes come open with a pull of will,
    16 lines
  • The Letter
    With B.E.F. Jun 10. Dear Wife,
    (Oh blast this pencil. 'Ere, Bill, lend's a knife.)
    22 lines
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