Exposure

Wilfred Owen

1893 to 1918

Poem Image

We are working on musical arrangements of Exposure by Wilfred Owen and they will be published on a date yet to be decided.

I

Our brains ache, in the merciless iced east winds that knife us . . .
Wearied we keep awake because the night is silent . . .
Low drooping flares confuse our memory of the salient . . .
Worried by silence, sentries whisper, curious, nervous,
But nothing happens.

Watching, we hear the mad gusts tugging on the wire.
Like twitching agonies of men among its brambles.
Northward incessantly, the flickering gunnery rumbles,
Far off, like a dull rumour of some other war.
What are we doing here?

The poignant misery of dawn begins to grow . . .
We only know war lasts, rain soaks, and clouds sag stormy.
Dawn massing in the east her melancholy army
Attacks once more in ranks on shivering ranks of gray,
But nothing happens.

Sudden successive flights of bullets streak the silence.
Less deadly than the air that shudders black with snow,
With sidelong flowing flakes that flock, pause and renew,
We watch them wandering up and down the wind's nonchalance,
But nothing happens.

II

Pale flakes with lingering stealth come feeling for our faces—
We cringe in holes, back on forgotten dreams, and stare, snow-dazed,
Deep into grassier ditches.  So we drowse, sun-dozed,
Littered with blossoms trickling where the blackbird fusses.
Is it that we are dying?

Slowly our ghosts drag home:  glimpsing the sunk fires glozed
With crusted dark-red jewels; crickets jingle there;
For hours the innocent mice rejoice:  the house is theirs;
Shutters and doors all closed:  on us the doors are closed—
We turn back to our dying.

Since we believe not otherwise can kind fires burn;
Nor ever suns smile true on child, or field, or fruit.
For God's invincible spring our love is made afraid;
Therefore, not loath, we lie out here; therefore were born,
For love of God seems dying.

To-night, His frost will fasten on this mud and us,
Shrivelling many hands and puckering foreheads crisp.
The burying-party, picks and shovels in their shaking grasp,
Pause over half-known faces.  All their eyes are ice,
But nothing happens.

Wilfred Owen's Exposure

We are busy working to bring Wilfred Owen's "Exposure" to life through our unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you soon.

At V2Melody, each arrangement is crafted with care through a thoughtful partnership of human artistry and technological innovation. This process involves:

  • Deep analysis of the poem's rhythm, structure, and emotional essence
  • Careful selection of musical styles that enhance the poem's unique voice
  • Balancing traditional poetic expression with contemporary sound landscapes
  • Multiple revisions to ensure the arrangement honors the poet's original vision

This creative journey takes time—each composition represents hours of dedicated work to create something that deepens our connection to Wilfred Owen's words in meaningful ways.

While you wait for our complete interpretation, we invite you to explore other musical arrangements in our gallery or learn more about Wilfred Owen's life and contributions to literature.

Check back soon to experience how "Exposure" transforms when verse meets melody—a unique journey that makes poetry accessible, engaging, and profoundly moving in new ways.