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Because I might as well get my crying over with...
Poppy 1

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, -
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing down of blinds.

Anthem for Doomed Youth - Wilfred Owen

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Thank you for posting that.

Gods, he's good. It's too horribly understandable.

Owen's death was a great tragedy in a war full of great tragedies. And that poem is his greatest. It brings tears to my eyes just reading it - and if they read it on Remembrance Sunday as they often do...

Beautiful and very movinf.

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