Disabled by Wilfred Owen [Born Shropshire, England, 18 March 1893. Killed in action, France, 4 November 1918.] 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, Voices of play and pleasure after day, Till gathering sleep mothered them from him. About this time, the town used to swing so gay When glow-lamps budded in the light blue trees, And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim— In the old times, before he threw away his knees. Now he will never feel again how slim Girls waists are, or how warm their subtle hands. All of them touch him like some queer disease. There was an artist silly for his face, For it was younger than his youth, last year. Now, he is old; his back will never brace; Hes lost his color very far from here, Poured it down shell-holes till the veins ran dry, And half his lifetime lapsed in the hot race, And leap of purple spurted from his thigh. One time he liked a bloodsmear down his leg, After the matches carried shoulder-high. It was after football, when hed drunk a peg, He thought hed better join. He wonders why... Someone had said hed look a god in kilts. Thats why; and maybe, too, to please his Meg; Aye, that was it, to please the giddy jilts, He asked to join. He didnt have to beg; Smiling they wrote his lie: Aged nineteen years. Germans he scarcely thought of, and no fears Of Fear came yet. He thought of jewelled hilts For daggers in plaid socks, of smart salutes, And care of arms, and leave, and pay arrears, Esprit de corps, and hints for young recruits. And soon he was drafted out, with drums and cheers. Some cheered him home, but not as crowds cheer Goal. Only a solemn man who brought him fruits Thanked him, and then inquired about his soul. Now, he will spend a few sick years in institutes, And do what things the rules consider wise, And take whatever pity they may dole. Tonight he noticed how the womens eyes Passed from him to the strong men that were whole. How cold and late it is! Why dont they come And put him into bed? Why dont they come? •
Posted on: Mon, 04 Nov 2013 07:39:36 +0000
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