Nocturne See all items with this value

Now, as the warm approach of honied slumber blurs my sense,
Before I yield me to th'enchantment of my bed,
God rest all souls in toil and turbulence,
All men a-weary seeking bread;
God rest them all tonight!
Let sleep expunge
The day's monotonous vistas from their sight;
And let them plunge
Deep down the dusky firmament of reverie
And drowse of dreams with me.
Ah! I should drowse away the night most peacefully
But that there toil too many bodies unreposed
Who fain would fall on lethargy;
Too many leaden eyes unclosed;
And aching hands amove
Interminably,
Beneath the light that night will not remove;
Too many brains that rave in dust and steam!
They rave, but cannot dream!

3337.txt

Owen, Wilfred (1893-1918) See all items with this value

1915

Poem

The First World War Poetry Digital Archive

The Complete Poems and Fragments of Wilfred Owen edited by Jon Stallworthy first published by Chatto & Windus, 1983.

(#63 CPF vol. 1, p. 75, vol. 2 p. 217)
BL 1. 122

3337.txt