Anthem for Doomed Youth

On this day, on the eleventh hour, of the eleventh month of 1918 World War 1 ended. And Wilfred Owen's mother received a telegram, from the War Office informing her, that her son, Wilfred Owen, had been killed in action, a few days before:-
Anthem for Doomed Youth.
By Robert Owen


Wilfred Owen (1893 - 1918)

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Anthem for Doomed Youth
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
- Only the monstruous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, -
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.


What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.