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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536218" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Arms and the Boy</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536218" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">1 Let the boy try along this bayonet-blade<br>2 How cold steel is, and keen with hunger of blood;<br>3 Blue with all malice, like a madman's flash;<br>4 And thinly drawn with famishing for flesh.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536218" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">5 Lend him to stroke these blind, blunt bullet-heads<br>6 Which long to muzzle in the hearts of lads.<br>7 Or give him cartridges of fine zinc teeth,<br>8 Sharp with the sharpness of grief and death.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536218" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">9 For his teeth seem for laughing round an apple.<br>10 There lurk no claws behind his fingers supple;<br>11 And God will grow no talons at his heels,<br>12 Nor antlers through the thickness of his curls.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Wilfred+Owen">Wilfred Owen</a></strong></div>

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