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.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (The Owl by Edward Thomas )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- Drop In The Bucket, Michael McParland
- Drifting Hell, Michael McParland
- Dreams, Michael McParland
- Doubting, Michael McParland
- Don't Tell Me, Michael McParland
- In Memoriam, Sandra Feldman
- Don't Say, I Said, Michael McParland
- Don't Say Goodbye, Michael McParland
- To you My Friend!, Shaila Touchton
- Domestic Dreams, Michael McParland