[i Saw His Round Mouth's Crimson]
[I saw his round mouth's crimson deepen as it fell],
by Wilfred Owen
Like a Sun, in his last deep hour;
Watched the magnificent recession of farewell,
Clouding, half gleam, half glower,
And a last splendour burn the heavens of his cheek.
And in his eyes
The cold stars lighting, very old and bleak,
In different skies.