Not this week nor this month dare I lie down
In languour under lime trees or smooth smile.
Love must not kiss my face pale that is brown.
My lips, parting, shall drink space, mile by mile;
Strong meats be all my hunger; my renown
Be the clean beauty of speed and pride of style.
Cold winds encountered on the racing Down
Shall thrill my heated bareness; but awhile
None else may meet me till I wear my crown.
Training
Wilfred Owen
(2)
Poem topics: beauty, kiss, pride, smile, space, crown, brown, strong, face, clean, cold, hunger, speed, drink, love, I love you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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David Loaring: I have been transcribing my mother Ellen's thousands of pages of hand-written poetry and journals. She admired your poetry in her journal, January 15, 1972, citing lines from 'Training' and 'The Kind Ghosts'. I have used this site to ensure the quotes and accreditations were accurate. Thank you very much.
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