[i Saw His Round Mouth's Crimson]

Poem By Wilfred Owen

[I saw his round mouth's crimson deepen as it fell],
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.

Comments about [i Saw His Round Mouth's Crimson]

dont worry dropping part 2 soon
dont worry guys dropping part 2
'' the heavens of his cheek '': ... mm.. what is the real meaning?
[I saw his round mouth's crimson deepen as it fell], 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. - in ITALIAN: [Vidi il rosso cremisi della sua bocca rotonda incupirsi mentre cadeva], Come un sole, basso, nella sua ultima ora; Vidi il magnifico ritiro del commiato, Rannuvolarsi, per metà brillante, per metà torvo, E un ultimo splendore bruciare i cieli della sua guancia. E nei suoi occhi Le fredde stelle accendersi, antiche e tetre, In altri cieli.
I think its a nice one, very good


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Other poems of OWEN

Dulce Et Decorum Est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned out backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.

Anthem For Doomed Youth

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.

Arms And The Boy

1 Let the boy try along this bayonet-blade
2 How cold steel is, and keen with hunger of blood;
3 Blue with all malice, like a madman's flash;
4 And thinly drawn with famishing for flesh.

1914

War broke: and now the Winter of the world
With perishing great darkness closes in.
The foul tornado, centred at Berlin,
Is over all the width of Europe whirled,

Disabled

He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark,
And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey,
Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park
Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn,

Asleep

Under his helmet, up against his pack,
After so many days of work and waking,
Sleep took him by the brow and laid him back.