The Young Soldier

Wilfred Owen

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.

Next 10 Poems

• Wilfred Owen : Wild With All Regrets
• Wilfred Owen : Winter Song
• Dorothy Parker : A Certain Lady
• Dorothy Parker : A Dream Lies Dead
• Dorothy Parker : A Fairly Sad Tale
• Dorothy Parker : A Pig's-eye View Of Literature
• Dorothy Parker : A Portrait
• Dorothy Parker : A Very Short Song
• Dorothy Parker : A Well-worn Story
• Dorothy Parker : After Spanish Proverb

Previous 10 Poems

• Wilfred Owen : The Show
• Wilfred Owen : The Sentry
• Wilfred Owen : The Send-off
• Wilfred Owen : The Parable Of The Old Men And The Young
• Wilfred Owen : The Parable Of The Old Man And The Young
• Wilfred Owen : The Last Laugh
• Wilfred Owen : The End
• Wilfred Owen : The Dead-beat
• Wilfred Owen : The Chances
• Wilfred Owen : Strange Meeting