Sherry Chandler » 2007 » March » 19
The Owl
Downhill I came, hungry, and yet not starved;
Cold, yet heat within me that was proof
Against the North wind; tired, yet so that rest
Had seemed the sweetest thing under a roof.
Then at the inn I had food, fire, and rest,
Knowing how hungry, cold and tired was I.
All of the night was quite barred out except
An owl’s cry, a most melancholy cry.
Shaken out long and clear upon the hill,
No merry note, nor cause of merriment,
But one telling me plain what I escaped
And others could not, that night, as in I went.
And salted was my food, and my repose,
Salted and sobered, too, by the bird’s voice
Speaking for all who lay under the stars,
Soldiers and poor, unable to rejoice.
— Edward Thomas (1878-1917), text from Against Forgetting (Norton 1993)
This post was written by sherry
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