Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen &
Wilfred Owen
In this poem, Owen explicitly writes about the unnatural and deathly effect of guns, especially on a young boy. Owen himself joined the army at 22, not knowing the cruel reality of war.
The title is an ironic reference to George Bernard Shaw’s play Arms and the Man', which itself is taken from the...
Let the boy try along this bayonet-blade
How cold steel is, and keen with hunger of blood;
Blue with all malice, like a madman's flash;
And thinly drawn with famishing for flesh.
Lend him to stroke these blind, blunt bullet-leads
Which long to nuzzle in the hearts of lads,
Or give him cartridges of fine zinc teeth,
Sharp with the sharpness of grief and death.
For his teeth seem for laughing round an apple.
There lurk no claws behind his fingers supple;
And God will grow no talons at his heels,
Nor antlers through the thickness of his curls.