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.
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 goodbyes.
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.
- Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)
The famed poem Wilfred Owen was born near my home town, though his birth place, Plas Wilmot has long since been absorbed by the town itself. This year marked both the centenary of his death, but also the centenary of the end of the First World War, with yesterday being Armistice Day and Remembrance Sunday (Also known as Veteran’s Day in the United States). As you can imagine, much has been said about his life these last few weeks. Wilfred Owen wrote the following, In the preface to the collection he was working on, shortly before his death:
“This book is not about heroes. English poetry is not yet fit to speak of them.
Nor is it about deeds, or lands, nor anything about glory, honour, might, majesty, dominion, or power, except War.
Above all I am not concerned with Poetry.
My subject is War, and the pity of War.
The Poetry is in the pity.”
COMMENTARY BY SOTUNUS: For Halloween, I wrote much about death, and even touched upon the subject of remembrance then. For this week, I would rather leave you the words of Wilfred Owen to contemplate; for he was a witness to the “War to end all Wars” and even now his words speak to us down through decades. As Jedi, it is important for us to remember the terrible cost that is accrued when peace fails.
Citation
Owen, W. E. S. (1986) W. Owen: The Poems of Wilfred Owen(J. Stallworthy, Ed.). W. W. Norton and Company, Inc.