Anthem for Doomed1 Youth
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle？ Only the monstrous2 anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle3 Can patter out their hasty orisons. No mockeries for them； no prayers nor bells, Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs4, —— The shrill5, demented choirs of wailing6 shells； And bugles7 calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all？ Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes Shall shine the holy glimmers8 of goodbyes. The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall9； Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds, And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
Category :[Culture][Literature]
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