After the blast of lightning from the east, <br />The flourish of loud clouds, the Chariot throne, <br />After the drums of time have rolled and ceased <br />And from the bronze west long retreat is blown, <br /> <br />Shall Life renew these bodies? Of a truth <br />All death will he annul, all tears assuage? <br />Or fill these void veins full again with youth <br />And wash with an immortal water age? <br /> <br />When I do ask white Age, he saith not so, -- <br />"My head hangs weighed with snow." <br />And when I hearken to the Earth she saith <br />My fiery heart sinks aching. It is death. <br />Mine ancient scars shall not be glorified <br />Nor my titanic tears the seas be dried."<br /><br />Wilfred Owen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-end-3/
