Erotica author, aka Elspeth Potter, on Writing from the Inside

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Edward Thomas, "The Owl"

The Owl

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.

--Edward Thomas (1878-1917)


  1. I've often wondered what Thomas would have done under Frost's further influence if he'd survived the war. The differences in what he could do, pre- and post-meeting, are so striking.


  2. Hmmm, I wonder if he was much fun at parties, though.