posted on 2024-04-19, 17:44authored byFirst World War Poetry Digital Archive Project Team
One evening Eros took me by the hand, And having folded feathers round my head, Or sleep like feathers, towards a far hope sped, I groping, for he bade me understand He would soon fill with Yours my other hand --- But when I heard his singing wings expand My face fell deeply in his shoulder. Sweet moons we flew thus, yet I waned not older But in his exquisiteness I flagged, unmanned Till, when his wings were drooping to an end Feeling my empty hand fulfilled with His, I knew Love gave himself my passion-friend. So my old quest of you requited is, Ampler than e'er I asked of your girl's grace. I shall not ask you more, nor see your face.
History
Identifier
3378.txt
Creator
Owen, Wilfred (1893-1918)
Date
1917
Source
The Complete Poems and Fragments of Wilfred Owen edited by Jon Stallworthy first published by Chatto & Windus, 1983.
(#75, CPF vol. 1, p. 84, vol. 2, p. 225)
OEF/ELG
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.