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.

Quote by Wilfred Owen

Topics: Poetry Quotes, World War I Quotes

I am only conscious of any satisfaction in Scientific Reading or thinking when it rounds...

I am only conscious of any satisfaction in Scientific Reading or thinking when it rounds...

Shall Life renew these bodies? Of a truth All death will he annul, all tears...

Shall Life renew these bodies? Of a truth All death will he annul, all tears...

My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity.

My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity.

All theological lore is becoming distasteful to me.

All theological lore is becoming distasteful to me.

Numbers of the old people cannot read. Those who can seldom do.

Numbers of the old people cannot read. Those who can seldom do.

My arms have mutinied against me brutes! My fingers fidget like ten idle brats, My...

My arms have mutinied against me brutes! My fingers fidget like ten idle brats, My...

All I ask is to be held above the barren wastes of want.

All I ask is to be held above the barren wastes of want.

She is elegant rather than belle.

She is elegant rather than belle.

If I have got to be a soldier, I must be a good one, anything...

If I have got to be a soldier, I must be a good one, anything...

Those who have no hope pass their old age shrouded with an inward gloom.

Those who have no hope pass their old age shrouded with an inward gloom.

A Poem does not grow by jerks. As trees in Spring produce a new ring...

A Poem does not grow by jerks. As trees in Spring produce a new ring...

Now rather thank I God there is no risk Of gravers scoring it with florid...

Now rather thank I God there is no risk Of gravers scoring it with florid...

My arms have mutinied against me brutes! My fingers fidget like ten idle brats, My...

My arms have mutinied against me brutes! My fingers fidget like ten idle brats, My...

Never fear: Thank Home, and Poetry, and the Force behind both.

Never fear: Thank Home, and Poetry, and the Force behind both.

Flying is the only active profession I would ever continue with enthusiasm after the War.

Flying is the only active profession I would ever continue with enthusiasm after the War.

Be bullied, be outraged, by killed, but do not kill.

Be bullied, be outraged, by killed, but do not kill.

I don't ask myself, is the life congenial to me? But, am I fitted for,...

I don't ask myself, is the life congenial to me? But, am I fitted for,...

Do you know what would hold me together on a battlefield? The sense that I...

Do you know what would hold me together on a battlefield? The sense that I...

The war effects me less than it ought. I can do no service to anybody...

The war effects me less than it ought. I can do no service to anybody...

I was a boy when I first realized that the fullest life liveable was a...

I was a boy when I first realized that the fullest life liveable was a...