posted on 2024-04-19, 17:45authored byFirst World War Poetry Digital Archive Project Team
Sing me at dawn but only with your laugh: Like sprightly Spring that laugheth into leaf; Like Love, that cannot flute for smiling at Life. Sing to me only with your speech all day, As voluble leaflets do. Let viols die. The least word of your lips is melody. Sing me at dusk, but only with your sigh; Like lifting seas it solaceth: breathe so, All voicelessly, the sense that no songs say. Sing me at midnight with your murmurous heart; And let its moaning like a chord be heard Surging through you and sobbing unsubdued.
History
Identifier
3357.txt
Creator
Owen, Wilfred (1893-1918)
Source
The Complete Poems and Fragments of Wilfred Owen edited by Jon Stallworthy first published by Chatto & Windus, 1983, (#86, CPF vol. 1, p. 89). Preliminaries, introductory, editorial matter, manuscripts and fragments omitted.
Type
Poem
Rights
The Estate of Wilfred Owen.
The Complete Poems and Fragments of Wilfred Owen edited by Jon Stallworthy first published by Chatto & Windus, 1983. Preliminaries, introductory, editorial matter, manuscripts and fragments omitted.