SONNET
On Seeing a Piece of Our Heavy Artillery Brought into Action
Be slowly lifted up, thou long black arm,
Great Gun towering towards Heaven, about to curse;
Sway steep against them, and for years rehearse
Huge imprecations like a blasting charm!
Reach at that Arrogance which needs thy harm,
And beat it down before its sins grow worse.
Spend our resentment, cannon, -- yea, disburse
Our gold in shapes of flame, our breaths in storm.
Yet, for men's sakes whom thy vast malison
Must wither innocent of enmity,
Be not withdrawn, dark arm, thy spoilure done,
Safe to the bosom of our prosperity.
But when thy spell be cast complete and whole,
May God curse thee, and cut thee from our soul!
You can read more Wilfred Owen poetry here.
1 comment:
I have always been moved by Wilfrid Owen. I know Dulce et Decorum Est well since I had to read the Latin poem of that original phrase by Horace when I was an undergraduate. Probably my favorite is "Anthem for Doomed Youth." There's sweetness there as well as bitterness.
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