Happy are men who yet before they are killed Can let their veins run cold ... And some cease feeling Even themselves or for themselves. Dullness best solves The tease and doubt of shelling ... Happy are those who lose imagination: They have enough to carry ammunition. Their spirit drags no pack. Their old wounds, save with cold, can not more ache. Having seen all things red, Their eyes are rid Of the hurt of the colour of blood for ever.
- Wilfred Owen, Insensibility
- Wilfred Owen, Insensibility
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