... Meeting By Wilfred Owen It seemed that out of battle I escaped Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped Through granites which titanic wars had groined.
Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,
Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.
Then ,as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared
With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,
Lifting distressful hands, as if to bless.
And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall, -
By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.
With a thousand pains that visions face was grained;
Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground,
And no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan.
Strange friend, I said, here is no cause to mourn.
None, said that other, save the...