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From My Diary
by
Wilfred Owen


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Leaves
Murmuring by miriads in the shimmering trees.
Lives
Wakening with wonder in the Pyrenees.
Birds
Cheerily chirping in the early day.
Bards
Singing of summer, scything thro’ the hay.
Bees
Shaking the heavy dews from bloom and frond.
Boys
Bursting the surface of the ebony pond.
Flashes
Of swimmers carving thro’ the sparkling cold.
Fleshes
Gleaming with wetness to the morning gold.
A mead
Bordered about with warbling water brooks.
A maid
Laughing the love-laugh with me; proud of looks.
The heat
Throbbing between the upland and the peak.
Her heart
Quivering with passion to my pressed cheek.
Braiding
Of floating flames across the mountain brow.
Brooding
Of stillness; and a sighing of the bough.
Stirs
Of leaflets in the gloom; soft petal-showers;
Stars
Expanding with the starr’d nocturnal flowers.

 

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Wilfred Owen (1893 – 1918) was a British poet best known for chronicling the atrocities of World War I. He worked briefly as teacher before enlisting in an infantry unit of the British Army. Two years later, he met and befriended fellow poet Siegfried Sassoon in a hospital where they were both recovering from injuries. Wilfred was, by all accounts, a good and obedient soldier, but his letters to his mother confessed his horror at what he was witnessing on the battlefield. Tragically, he was killed in action a week before the war ended; he was only 25 years old.


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