Re: Homage to Wilfred Owen
Publié : mar. nov. 04, 2008 4:47 pm
Hello to all and to all,
Here is a poem it homage to a young dead second lieutenant 90 years ago
If ever I had dreamed of my dead name
High in the heart of London, unsurpassed
By time for ever, and the Fugitive, fame,
There taking a long sanctuary at last,
I better that ; and recollect with shame
How once I longed to hide it from life’s heats
Under those holy cypresses, the name
That keep in shade the quiet place of Keats,
Now rather, thank I God there is no risk
Of gravers scoring it with florid screed,
But let my death be memoried on this disc.
Wear it, sweet friend. Inscribe no date nor deed.
But let thy heart-beat kiss it, night and day,
Until the name grow vague and away.
Wilfred Owen, Second lieutenant Died on November 4th, 1918 in Ors
Here is a poem it homage to a young dead second lieutenant 90 years ago
If ever I had dreamed of my dead name
High in the heart of London, unsurpassed
By time for ever, and the Fugitive, fame,
There taking a long sanctuary at last,
I better that ; and recollect with shame
How once I longed to hide it from life’s heats
Under those holy cypresses, the name
That keep in shade the quiet place of Keats,
Now rather, thank I God there is no risk
Of gravers scoring it with florid screed,
But let my death be memoried on this disc.
Wear it, sweet friend. Inscribe no date nor deed.
But let thy heart-beat kiss it, night and day,
Until the name grow vague and away.
Wilfred Owen, Second lieutenant Died on November 4th, 1918 in Ors