The Send-Off

Wilfred Owen

Wilfred Owen portrait

1893 to 1918

Poem Image
Track 1

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Dull porters watched them, and a casual tramp
To the siding-shed,
Nor there if they yet mock what women meant
Shall they return to beatings of great bells
Up half-known roads.
Sorry to miss them from the upland camp.
Winked to the guard.
Who gave them flowers.
We never heard to which front these were sent.
In wild trainloads?
And lined the train with faces grimly gay.
Their breasts were stuck all white with wreath and spray
May creep back, silent, to still village wells
So secretly, like wrongs hushed-up, they went.
As men's are, dead.
Then, unmoved, signals nodded, and a lamp
They were not ours:
Down the close, darkening lanes they sang their way
Stood staring hard,
A few, a few, too few for drums and yells,

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Poet portrait