STORM by WILFRED OWEN
His face was charged with beauty as a cloud With glimmering lightning. When it shadowed me, I shook, and was uneasy as a tree That draws the brilliant danger, tremulous, bowed.
So must I tempt that face to loose its lightning. Great gods, whose beauty is death, will laugh above, Who made his beauty lovelier than love. I shall be bright with their unearthly brightening.
And happier were it if my sap consume; Glorious will shine the opening of my heart; The land shall freshen that was under gloom; What matter if all men cry out and start, And women hide their faces in their shawl, At those hilarious thunders of my fall?
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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||His face was charged with beauty as a cloud|
|Publication source||The Complete Poems and Fragments of Wilfred Owen|
|Publication editor||Stallworthy, Jon|
|Digital repository||The First World War Poetry Digital Archive|