Maxioms by Wilfred Owen
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
Shall Life renew these bodies? Of a truthAll death will he annul, all tears assuage?Or fill these void veins full read more
Shall Life renew these bodies? Of a truthAll death will he annul, all tears assuage?Or fill these void veins full again with youthAnd wash with an immortal water age?
Move him into the sun —Gently its touch awoke him once,At home, whispering of fields unsown.Always it woke him, even read more
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.
