SONNET by WILFRED OWEN
Daily I muse on her; I muse and fret; And take her little face between each hand; But spare her---even imagined---kisses yet. It is because, when first that face I scanned, It wakened doubts I may no more forget, And curious dreads I cannot understand. They reach beyond the fears fond lovers pet, That faith may change ere death; for they demand:
'What of her after Death? Shall we persist? Will Death be merciful and keep her whole?' In wonderment at this, I have not kissed; And even now methought a whisper stole: 'Hast thou so learned Love's Law, and yet not wist Her Beauty lives not? How, then, can her Soul?'
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|Author||Owen, Wilfred (1893-1918)|
|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||Daily I muse on her; I muse and fret|
|Publication source||The Complete Poems and Fragments of Wilfred Owen|
|Publication editor||Stallworthy, Jon|
|Digital repository||The First World War Poetry Digital Archive|