Red lips are not so red; As the stained stones kissed by the English dead.
More Quotes from Wilfred Owen:
It is not deathWithout hereafter
To one in dearth
Of life and its laughter,
Wilfred Owen
The war effects me less than it ought. I can do no service to anybody by agitating for news or making dole over the slaughter.
Wilfred Owen
When I begin to eliminate from the list all those professions which are impossible from a financial point of view and then those which I feel disinclined to-it leaves nothing.
Wilfred Owen
Futility Move him into the sun Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of fields unsown. Always it woke him, even in France, Until this morning and this snow. If anything might rouse him now The kind old sun will know. Think how it wakes the seeds, Woke, once, the clays of a cold star. Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides, Full-nerved still warm too hard to stir Was it for this the clay grew tall O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earth's sleep at all.
Wilfred Owen
Flying is the only active profession I would ever continue with enthusiasm after the War.
Wilfred Owen
Never fear: Thank Home, and Poetry, and the Force behind both.
Wilfred Owen
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Based on Topics: English QuotesBased on Keywords: stained
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