Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
The Lesson
Chaos ruled OK in the classroomas bravely the teacher walked inthe nooligans ignored himhis voice was lost in the din'The theme for today is..
© Roger McGough
Let Me Die A Youngman's Death
Let me die a youngman's deathnot a clean and inbetweenthe sheets holywater deathnot a famous-last-wordspeaceful out of breath deathWhen I'm 73and in..
© Roger McGough
Roundel
In Shrewsbury Town e'en Hercules wox tired,Tired of the streets that end not up nor down;Tired of the Quarry, though seats may be hiredOf Shrewsbury..
© Wilfred Owen
A Palinode
Some little while ago, I had a moodWhen what we know as 'Nature' seemed to meSo sympathetic, ample, sweet, and goodThat I preferred it to Society.Not..
© Wilfred Owen
Sonnet: On Seeing A Piece Of Our Heavy Artillery Brought Into Action
Be slowly lifted up, thou long black arm,Great Gun towering towards Heaven, about to curse;Sway steep against them, and for years rehearseHuge..
© Wilfred Owen
Sonnet To My Friend - With An Identity Disc
If ever I had dreamed of my dead nameHigh in the heart of London, unsurpassedBy Time for ever, and the Fugitive, Fame,There seeking a long sanctuary..
© Wilfred Owen
Shadwell Stair
I am the ghost of Shadwell Stair.Along the wharves by the water-house,And through the cavernous slaughter-house,I am the shadow that walks there.Yet..
© Wilfred Owen
My Shy Hand
My shy hand shades a hermitage apart, -O large enough for thee, and thy brief hours.Life there is sweeter held than in God's heart,Stiller than in..
© Wilfred Owen
The Calls [unfinished]
A dismal fog-hoarse siren howls at dawn.I watch the man it calls for, pushed and drawnBackwards and forwards, helpless as a pawn.But I'm lazy, and..
© Wilfred Owen
Antaeus: [a Fragment]
So neck to stubborn neck, and obstinate knee to knee,Wrestled those two; and peerless HeraclesCould not prevail, nor get at any vantage…So those huge..
© Wilfred Owen
Song Of Songs
Sing me at morn but only with your laugh;Even as Spring that laugheth into leaf;Even as Love that laugheth after Life.Sing me but only with your..
© Wilfred Owen
Maundy Thursday
Between the brown hands of a server-ladThe silver cross was offered to be kissed.The men came up, lugubrious, but not sad,And knelt reluctantly..
© Wilfred Owen
O World Of Many Worlds
O World of many worlds, O life of lives,What centre hast thou? Where am I?O whither is it thy fierce onrush drives?Fight I, or drift; or stand; or..
© Wilfred Owen
On My Songs
Though unseen Poets, many and many a time,Have answered me as if they knew my woe,And it might seem have fashioned so their rimeTo be my own soul's..
© Wilfred Owen
The Calls
A dismal fog-hoarse siren howls at dawn.I watch the man it calls for, pushed and drawnBackwards and forwards, helpless as a pawn.But I'm lazy, and..
© Wilfred Owen
Preface
This book is not about heroes. English Poetry is not yet fit to speakof them. Nor is it about deeds or lands, nor anything about glory..
© Wilfred Owen
On Seeing A Piece Of Our Artillery Brought Into Action
Be slowly lifted up, thou long black arm,Great gun towering towards Heaven, about to curse;Sway steep against them, and for years rehearseHuge..
© Wilfred Owen
Spells And Incantations
A vague pearl, a wan pearlYou showed me once; I peered through far-gone wintersUntil my mind was fog-bound in that gem.Blue diamonds, cold..
© Wilfred Owen
Storm
His face was charged with beauty as a cloudWith glimmering lightning. When it shadowed meI shook, and was uneasy as a treeThat draws the brilliant..
© Wilfred Owen
The Unreturning
Suddenly night crushed out the day and hurledHer remnants over cloud-peaks, thunder-walled.Then fell a stillness such as harks appalledWhen far-gone..
© Wilfred Owen
From My Diary, July 1914
LeavesMurmuring by miriads in the shimmering trees.LivesWakening with wonder in the Pyrenees.BirdsCheerily chirping in the early day.BardsSinging of..
© Wilfred Owen
Six O'Clock In Princes Street
In twos and threes, they have not far to roam,Crowds that thread eastward, gay of eyes;Those seek no further than their quiet home,Wives, walking..
© Wilfred Owen
Red Lips Are Not So Red
Red lips are not so redAs the stained stones kissed by the English dead.Kindness of wooed and wooerSeems shame to their love pure.O Love, your eyes..
© Wilfred Owen
On Seeing A Piece Of Our Heavy Artillery Brought Into Action
Be slowly lifted up, thou long black arm,Great Gun towering towards Heaven, about to curse;Sway steep against them, and for years rehearseHuge..
© Wilfred Owen
Hospital Barge At Cerisy
Budging the sluggard ripples of the Somme,A barge round old Cérisy slowly slewed.Softly her engines down the current screwed,And chuckled softly with..
© Wilfred Owen