“Futility” - Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)

Move him into the sun— Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of fields half-sown. 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?

Fallen Russian Soldier, László Mednyánszky, 1914-17

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“Anthem for Doomed Youth” - Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? — Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons. No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells; Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,— The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells; And bugles calling for them from sad shires. What candles may be held to speed them all? Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes. The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall; Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds, And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

Wilfred Edward Salter Owen, MC, KIA at the Sambre-Oise Canal, France, Nov. 4, 1918, aged 25

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The Send-Off by Wilfred Owen

Down the close, darkening lanes they sang their way

www.poetryfoundation.org

For Memorial Day, a poem by Wilfred Owen (KIA at the Sambre-Oise Canal, France, Nov. 4, 1918).

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