Poems by Wilfred Owen
page 29 of 44 (65%)
page 29 of 44 (65%)
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But what say such as from existence' brink Ventured but drave too swift to sink. The few who rushed in the body to enter hell, And there out-fiending all its fiends and flames With superhuman inhumanities, Long-famous glories, immemorial shames -- And crawling slowly back, have by degrees Regained cool peaceful air in wonder -- Why speak they not of comrades that went under? The Chances I mind as 'ow the night afore that show Us five got talking, -- we was in the know, "Over the top to-morrer; boys, we're for it, First wave we are, first ruddy wave; that's tore it." "Ah well," says Jimmy, -- an' 'e's seen some scrappin' -- "There ain't more nor five things as can 'appen; Ye get knocked out; else wounded -- bad or cushy; Scuppered; or nowt except yer feeling mushy." One of us got the knock-out, blown to chops. T'other was hurt, like, losin' both 'is props. An' one, to use the word of 'ypocrites, |
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