TO --- by WILFRED OWEN
Three rompers run together, hand in hand. The middle boy stops short, the others hurtle: What bumps, what shrieks, what laughter turning turtle. Love, racing between us two, has planned A sudden mischief: shortly he will stand And we shall shock. We cannot help but fall; What matter? Why, it will not hurt at all, Our youth is supple, and the world is sand.
Better our lips should bruise our eyes, than He, Rude Love, out-run our breath; you pant, and I, I cannot run much farther, mind that we Both laugh with Love; and having tumbled, try To go forever children, hand in hand. The sea is rising...and the world is sand.
|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.|
|Digital repository||The First World War Poetry Digital Archive|