A Poet Remembered

Too many were to mourn.The war Had taken all the young, but left Behind a few who stumbled, blind Or lame, some, faring worse, bereft Of sense, writhed in screaming pain And cursed their God. The shame will last Through poems scratched in bloody line By this dead lad, now, though passed Away, he'd used his searing muse to pen Accusing rhyme of each fierce horror, As he captained men, who then With him were brought to early dust. Hard death then made another claim, Fame this bard, alive, would never know. Just days before the very final blast He fell, the ditches he'd despised As living hell, were holding him at last. Trusty words preserved in clarion verse Still cry, that lying yet, where long ago They died, such spilled blood serves to Teach a truth, that learn from war we must. Tribute to Wilfred Owen - 1893-1918 Killed 4th November,1918.