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The End
par
Wilfred Owen
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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 shalls not be glorified Nor my titanic tears, the sea, be dried."
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