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
posted here https://nigeness.blogspot.com/ Aug 2025
Gladsome Lights 
This is a very thoughtful, melancholy poem.
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We just watched I Heard the Bells as a family… this poem reminds me a bit of Longfellow’s path to writing the poem Christmas Bells. Though Thomas was literally battling in a different war (so interesting Robert Frost encouraged him to write poetry!) and doesn’t end with a refrain asserting “Right will prevail”… I wonder whether he didn’t leave room for the reader to fill in his own last stanza, that Someone else could also speak for “all who lay under the stars”…
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Thank you for drawing attention to that Someone ❤️
And I didn’t know that about Frost and Thomas.
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