Published on Academy of American Poets (https://poets.org)


Conscious

His fingers wake, and flutter up the bed.
His eyes come open with a pull of will,
Helped by the yellow may-flowers by his head.
A blind-cord drawls across the window-sill . . .
How smooth the floor of the ward is! what a rug!
And who’s that talking, somewhere out of sight?
Why are they laughing? What’s inside that jug?
“Nurse! Doctor!” “Yes; all right, all right.”

But sudden dusk bewilders all the air—
There seems no time to want a drink of water.
Nurse looks so far way. And everywhere
Music and roses burnt through crimson slaughter.
Cold; cold; he’s cold; and yet so hot:
And there’s no light to see the voices by—
No time to dream, and ask—he knows not what. 

Credit


This poem is in the public domain.

Author


Wilfred Owen

One of the most admired poets of World War I, Wilfred Edward Salter Owen is best known for his poems "Anthem for Doomed Youth" and "Dulce et Decorum Est." He was killed in France on November 4, 1918.

Date Published: 2018-11-02

Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/conscious