Whatever hope is yours,
Was my life also; I went hunting wild
After the wildest beauty in the world
. . .
I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
I knew you in this dark: for so you frowned
Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.
Let us sleep now. . . .
Whatever hope is yours,
Was my life also; I went hunting wild
After the wildest beauty in the world
. . .
I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
I knew you in this dark: for so you frowned
Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.
Let us sleep now. . . .
—Wilfred Owen, “Strange Meeting”
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47395/strange-meeting