First World War Poetry Digital Archive

The End

THE END by WILFRED OWEN

After the blast of lightning from the east, The flourish of loud clouds, the Chariot Throne; After the drums of time have rolled and ceased, And by the bronze west long retreat is blown, Shall Life renew these bodies? Of a truth, All death will he annul, all tears assuage? Or fill these void veins full again with youth, And wash, with an immortal water, age?

When I do ask white Age, he saith not so: 'My head hangs weighed with snow.' And when I hearken to the Earth, she saith: 'My fiery heart shrinks, aching. It is death. Mine ancient scars shall not be glorified, Nor my titanic tears, the seas, be dried.'

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