WILFRED OWEN
(1893-1918)

An Englishman and greatest British soldier poet of World War One. Served in the trenches as a Lieutenant and was awarded the Military Cross. Hospitalised with shell shock back to England in April 1917, and returned to the trenches in October. On November 4th 1918, before sunrise, led his platoon to the West bank of the Sambre and Oise Canal. They came under German machine gunfire and Owen was killed. In Shrewsbury, England, the Armistice bells were ringing when his parents front-door bell sounded heralding the telegram they had feared for two years,


Young and joyful
Stirring his Muse to sing
Lilting songs of beauty and love
Enjoying afternoon teas on luxuriant lawns
Life was melodious
Rich, and full of promise.

Then came the call to arms
His Country's need for soldiers
And he endured Hell in the trenches
Seeing things that broke the mind asunder
And with soul ripped and bleeding
He was returned home on sick leave.

Back again in the trenches
His Muse roared against the gore
As he penned the folly and madness of war.
The plight of boy soldiers dying in the mud
Thousands slaughtered like lambs
Sweetest flowers of a Nation destroyed.

Briefly his candle flame flickered brightly
Before the raging storm extinguished it.

Colin Ian Jeffery

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wilfred-owen/