With An Identity Disc
WITH AN IDENTITY DISC by WILFRED OWEN
If ever I had dreamed of my dead name High in the heart of London, unsurpassed By Time for ever, and the Fugitive, Fame, There taking a long sanctuary at last,
I better that; and recollect with shame How once I longed to hide it from life's heats Under those holy cypresses, the same That keep in shade the quiet place of Keats.
Now, rather, thank I God there is no risk Of gravers scoring it with florid screed, But let my death be memoried on this disc. Wear it, sweet friend. Inscribe no date nor deed. But let thy heart-beat kiss it night and day, Until the name grow vague and wear away.
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|Author||Owen, Wilfred (1893-1918)|
|Title||With An Identity Disc|
|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||If ever I had dreamed of my dead name|
|Publication source||The Complete Poems and Fragments of Wilfred Owen|
|Publication editor||Stallworthy, Jon|
|Digital repository||The First World War Poetry Digital Archive|