The Poetry of Wilfred Owen- Futility
- Created by: missmascara
- Created on: 17-03-10 21:35
Fullscreen
Futility.
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.
If anything might rouse him now
…
Comments
No comments have yet been made