![Wilfred Owen – Winter Song](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHIt_VTL7rI1TmxNXBQ6tsPHYSkukXmvLTPavEh4mvybjtb-YI5igADxxTlqaGV4BmzrIKNmgLQTRjSebEWbjIrnRxG7JjXn3eoOTSWAVDGv8WRfLLpC-k5HvxQ_9L6Qc8FainfwsVd_c/d-rw/Wilfred-Owen.jpg)
The browns, the olives, and the yellows died,
And were swept up to heaven; where they glowed
Each dawn and set of sun till Christmastide,
And when the land lay pale for them, pale-snowed,
Fell back, and down the snow-drifts flamed and flowed.
From off your face, into the winds of winter,
The sun-brown and the summer-gold are blowing;
But they shall gleam with spiritual glinter,
When paler beauty on your brows falls snowing,
And through those snows my looks shall be soft-going.
And were swept up to heaven; where they glowed
Each dawn and set of sun till Christmastide,
And when the land lay pale for them, pale-snowed,
Fell back, and down the snow-drifts flamed and flowed.
From off your face, into the winds of winter,
The sun-brown and the summer-gold are blowing;
But they shall gleam with spiritual glinter,
When paler beauty on your brows falls snowing,
And through those snows my looks shall be soft-going.