Tag Archives: signals

by Wilfred Owen Down the close, darkening lanes they sang their wayTo the siding-shed,And lined the train with faces grimly gay.Their breasts were stuck all white with wreath and sprayAs men’s are, dead.Dull porters watch them, and a casual trampStood staring hard,Sorry to miss them from the upland camp.Then, unmoved, signals nodded, and a lampWinkedContinue reading “The Send-off”