Down the close, darkening lanes they sang their way
To the siding-shed,
And lined the train with faces grimly gay.
Their breasts were stuck all white with wreath and spray
As men's are, dead.
Dull porters watched them, and a casual tramp
Stood staring hard,
Sorry to miss them from the upland camp.
Then, unmoved, signals nodded, and a lamp
Winked to the guard.
So secretly, like wrongs hushed-up, they went.
They were not ours:
We never heard to which front these were sent.
Nor there if they yet mock what women meant
Who gave them flowers.
Shall they return to beatings of great bells
In wild trainloads?
A few, a few, too few for drums and yells,
May creep back, silent, to still village wells
Up half-known roads.
Back to Wilfred Owen
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Comments2Wow, this really paints a vivid picture of soldiers going to war. I was really struck by the lines "So secretly, like wrongs hushed-up, they went. They were not ours..." It creates such a somber atmosphere and leaves one really contemplating the cost of war. Makes you think about the reality in ways one doesn’t usually. Truly moved.
REALLY SAD!!! 😢😭 YOU CAN FEEL THE DESPAIN AND SACRIFICES OF THE SOLDERS, THANKS TO WILFRED OWEN. A REALITY CHECK THAT WAR ISNT GLAMOURS, ITS PAINFUL AND REAL PEOPLE SUFFER. ITS NOT WHAT THEY SHOW ON TV OR CALL HEROIC. MADE ME THINK HARD ABOUT WAR. THANKS FOR SHARING THIS POEM!!! 👏👏👍👍🇺🇸