Wilfred Owen, The Poems Of Wilfred Owen Quotes
Red lips are not so red as the stained stones kissed by the English dead.
These men are worth your tears. You are not worth their merriment.
As bronze may be much beautified by lying in the dark damp soil, so men who fade in dust of warfare fade fairer, and sorrow blooms their soul.
Escape? There is one unwatched way: your eyes. O Beauty! Keep me good that secret gate.
