54081: The Owl

<p dir="ltr"> Downhill I came hungry, and yet not starved;<br> Cold, yet had heat within me that was proof<br> Against the North wind; tired, yet so that rest<br> Had seemed the sweetest thing under a roof.<br> Then at the inn I had food, fire, and rest,<br> Knowing how hungry, cold, and tired was I.<br> All of the night was quite barred out except<br> An owl's cry, a most melancholy cry<br> Shaken out long and clear upon the hill,<br> No merry note, nor cause of merriment,<br> But one telling me plain what I escaped<br> And others could not, that night, as in I went.<br> And salted was my food, and my repose,<br> Salted and sobered, too, by the bird's voice<br> Speaking for all who lay under the stars,<br> Soldiers and poor, unable to rejoice.<br></p>