Arms And The Boy
ARMS AND THE BOY by WILFRED OWEN
Let the boy try along this bayonet-blade How cold steel is, and keen with hunger of blood; Blue with all malice, like a madman's flash; And thinly drawn with famishing for flesh.
Lend him to stroke these blind, blung bullet-leads, Which long to nuzzle in the hearts of lads, Or give him cartridges whose fine zinc teeth Are sharp with sharpness of grief and death.
For his teeth seem for laughing round an apple. There lurk no claws behind his fingers supple; And God will grow no talons at his heels, Nor antlers through the thickness of his curls.
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|Author||Owen, Wilfred (1893-1918)|
|Title||Arms And The Boy|
|Copyright||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.|
|First line||Let the boy try along this bayonet-blade|
|Publication source||The Complete Poems and Fragments of Wilfred Owen|
|Publication editor||Stallworthy, Jon|
|Digital repository||The First World War Poetry Digital Archive|