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.

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 3269 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Wilfred Owen
Poem: The Young Soldier

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