If ever I had dreamed of my dead name
High in the heart of London, unsurpassed
By Time for ever, and the Fugitive, Fame,
There seeking a long sanctuary at last, -
Or if I onetime hoped to hide its shame,
- Shame of success, and sorrow of defeats, -
Under those holy cypresses, the same
That shade always the quiet place of Keats,
Now rather thank I God there is no risk
Of gravers scoring it with florid screed.
Let my inscription be this soldier's disc.
Wear it, sweet friend. Inscribe no date nor deed.
But may thy heart-beat kiss it, night and day,
Until the name grow blurred and fade away.
Back to Wilfred Owen
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Comments2I REMEMBER READING THIS POEM WHEN I WAS YOUNGER AND IT STILL REALLY GETS TO ME, HOW IT CAPTURES THE EMOTIONS AND THOUGHTS OF A PERSON WHO HAS GONE THROUGH A LOT IN THEIR LIFE. I THINK THIS POEM REALLY HIGHLIGHTS THE IMPORTANCE OF LASTING FRIENDSHIPS AND HOW THAT CAN BE SUCH A POWERFUL THING. WHY DO YOU THINK THE WRITER CHOOSE TO NOT WANT THEIR NAME TO BE REMEMBERED? ANYWAYS, I REALLY LIKE HOW THE MESSAGE IS EXPRESSED, KIDA LIKE A BRAVE AND HUMBLE WAY OF LETTING THEIR POFAME ANDNAME FADE. KUDOS TO THE WRITER!
WOW, THIS IS SO TOUCHING. REALLY MAKES YOU THINK ABOUT LIFE AND SACRIFICE. A REAL GEM.