It is not death
Without hereafter
To one in dearth
Of life and its laughter,

Nor the sweet murder
Dealt slow and even
Unto the martyr
Smiling at heaven:

It is the smile
Faint as a (waning) myth,
Faint, and exceeding small
On a boy's murdered mouth.

(C) Wilfred Owen
01/01/2000


Best Poems of Wilfred Owen

• Miners
• The End
• Exposure
• The Send-off
• The Young Soldier
• The Calls
• Strange Meeting
• Antaeus: [a Fragment]
• The Dead-beat
• The Show
• Preface
• I Know The Music
• Red Lips Are Not So Red
• Inspection
• Greater Love
• Futility
• Disabled
• Asleep
• The Parable Of The Old Men And The Young
• Apologia Pro Poemate Meo
• Anthem For Doomed Youth