DOWNHILL I came, hungry, and yet not starved,
Cold, yet had 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.
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Comments about this poem (The Owl by Edward Thomas )
- The curving world's edge (Passion Sonnet), Gert Strydom
- Could My Calm Coax You, Susan Lacovara
- At times we are only set on passing (Ame.., Gert Strydom
- The Implementation Is Seldom Unchanged, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- Clean India Campaign, Dr John Celes
- Holy Journey, Col Muhamad Khalid Khan
- MISSION, Col Muhamad Khalid Khan
- Life's Numbers, Randy McClave
- Imagining Love, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Hunted, Mae AC.
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