Bugles sang, saddening the evening air, <br />And bugles answered, sorrowful to hear. <br /> <br />Voices of boys were by the river-side. <br />Sleep mothered them; and left the twilight sad. <br />The shadow of the morrow weighed on men. <br /> <br />Voices of old despondency resigned, <br />Bowed by the shadow of the morrow, slept. <br /> <br />( ) dying tone <br />Of receding voices that will not return. <br />The wailing of the high far-travelling shells <br />And the deep cursing of the provoking ( ) <br /> <br />The monstrous anger of our taciturn guns. <br />The majesty of the insults of their mouths.<br /><br />Wilfred Owen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/but-i-was-looking-at-the-permanent-stars/
