First World War Poetry Digital Archive

The Promisers

THE PROMISERS by WILFRED OWEN

When I awoke, the glancing day looked gay; The air said: Fare you fleetly; you will meet him! And when the prosp'rous sun was well begun, I heard a bird say: Sweetly you shall greet him!

The sun fell strong and bold upon my shoulder; It hung, it clung as it were my friend's arm. The birds fifed on before, shrill-piping pipers, Right down to town; and there they ceased to charm.

And there I wandered till the noon came soon, And chimed: The time is hastening with his face! Sly twilight said: I bring him; wait till late! But darkness harked forlorn to my lone pace.

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