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Poems by Wilfred Owen
Disabled
He sat in a wheeled chair； waiting for dark； And shivered in his ghastly
suit of grey； Legless； sewn short at elbow。 Through the park Voices of boys
rang saddening like a hymn； Voices of play and pleasure after day； Till
gathering sleep had mothered them from him。
About this time Town used to swing so gay When glow…lamps budded
in the light…blue trees And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim； In
the old times； before he threw away his knees。 Now he will never feel
again how slim Girls' waists are； or how warm their subtle hands； All of
them touch him like some queer disease。
There was an artist silly for his face； For it was younger than his youth；
last year。 Now he is old； his back will never brace； He's lost his colour
very far from here； Poured it down shell…holes till the veins ran dry； And
half his lifetime lapsed in the hot race； And leap of purple spurted from his
thigh。 One time he liked a bloodsmear down his leg； After the matches
carried shoulder…high。 It was after football； when he'd drunk a peg； He
thought he'd better join。 He wonders why 。 。 。 Someone had said he'd look
a god in kilts。
That's why； and maybe； too； to please his Meg； Aye； that was it； to
please the giddy jilts； He asked to join。 He didn't have to beg； Smiling they
wrote his lie； aged nineteen years。 Germans he scarcely thought of； and no
fears Of Fear came yet。 He thought of jewelled hilts For daggers in plaid
socks； of smart salutes； And care of arms； and leave； and pay arrears；
Esprit de corps； and hints for young recruits。 And soon； he was drafted out
with drums and cheers。
Some cheered him home； but not as crowds cheer Goal。 Only a solemn
man who brought him fruits Thanked him； and then inquired about his
soul。 Now； he will spend a few sick years in Institutes； And do what things
the rules consider wise； And take whatever pity they may dole。 To…night he
noticed how the women's eyes Passed from him to the strong men that
were whole。 How cold and late it is！ Why don't they come And put him
into bed？ Why don't they come？
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Poems by Wilfred Owen
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Poems by Wilfred Owen
The End
After the blast of lightning from the east； The flourish of loud clouds；
the Chariot throne； After the drums of time have rolled and ceased And
from the bronze west long retreat is blown；
Shall Life renew these bodies？ Of a truth All death will he annul； all
tears assuage？ Or fill these void veins full again with youth And wash with
an immortal water age？
When I do ask white Age； he saith not so； 〃My head hangs weighed
with snow。〃 And when I hearken to the Earth she saith My fiery heart
sinks aching。 It is death。 Mine ancient scars shall not be glorified Nor my
titanic tears the seas be dried。〃
＇End of original text。＇
Appendix
General Notes：
Due to the general circumstances surrounding Wilfred Owen； and his
death one week before the war ended； it should be noted that these poems
are not all in their final form。 Owen had only had a few of his poems
published during his lifetime； and his papers were in a state of disarray
when Siegfried Sassoon； his friend and fellow poet； put together this
volume。 The 1920 edition was the first edition of Owen's poems； the 1921
reprint （of which this is a transcript） added one more and nothing else
happened until Edmund Blunden's 1931 edition。 Even with that edition；
there remained gaps； and several more editions added more and more
poems and fragments； in various forms； as it was difficult to tell which of
Owen's drafts were his final ones； until Jon Stallworthy's 〃Complete
Poems and Fragments〃 （1983） included all that could be found； and tried
to put them in chronological order； with the latest revisions； etc。
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Poems by Wilfred Owen
Therefore； it should not be surprising if some or most of these poems
differ from later editions。
After Owen's death； his writings gradually gained pre…eminence； so
that； although virtually unknown during the war； he came into high regard。
Benjamin Britten； the British composer who set nine of Owen's works as
the text of his 〃War Requiem〃 （shortly after the Second World War）； called
Owen 〃by far our greatest war poet； and one of the most original poets of
this century。〃 （Owen is especially noted for his use of pararhyme。） Five of
those nine texts are some form of poems included here； to wit： ‘Anthem
for Doomed Youth'； ‘Futility'； ‘Parable of the Old Men and the Young'；
‘The End'； and ‘Strange Meeting'。 The other four were ‘＇Bugles Sang＇'；
‘The Next War'； ‘Sonnet ＇Be slowly lifted up＇' and ‘At a Calvary Near the
Ancre' all of which the reader may wish to pursue； being some of
Owen's finest work。 Fortunately； the poem which I consider his best； and
which is one of his most quoted ‘Dulce et Decorum est'； is included in
this volume。
Specific Notes：
Blighty： England； or a wound that would take a soldier home （to
England）。
S。 I。 W。： Self Inflicted Wound。
Parable of the Old Men and the Young： A retold story from the Bible；
but with a different ending。 The phrase 〃Abram bound the youth with belts
and straps〃 refers to the youth who went to war； with all their equipment
belted and strapped on。 Other versions of this poem have an additional
line。
Dulce et Decorum est： The phrase 〃Dulce et decorum est pro patria
mori〃 is a Latin phrase from Horace； and translates literally something like
〃Sweet and proper it is for your country （fatherland） to die。〃 The poem
was originally intended to be addressed to an author who had written war
poems for children。 〃Dim through the misty panes 。 。 。〃 should be
understood by anyone who has worn a gas mask。
Alan R。 Light。 Monroe； North Carolina； July； 1997。
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