Explore "Poems: Exposure" by Wilfred Owen on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Our brains ache, in the merciless iced east winds that knife us. / Wearied we keep awake because the night is silent. / Low drooping flares confuse our memory of the salient. / Worried by silence, sentries whisper, curious, nervous, / But nothing happens.
Watching, we hear the mad gusts tugging on the wire. / Like twitching agonies of men among its brambles. / Northward incessantly, the flickering gunnery rumbles, / Far off, like a dull rumour of some other war. / What are we doing here?