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The Owl

I saw my world again through your

As I would see it again through your children's eyes.

Through your eyes it was foreign.

Plain hedge hawthorns were peculiar aliens,

A mystery of peculiar lore and doings.

Anything wild, on legs, in your

Emerged at a point of

As if it had appeared to dinner

In the middle of the table.

Common

Were artefacts of some unearthliness,

Their wooings were a hypnagogic

Unreeled by the river.

To comprehend the comfort of their

In the freezing water.

You were a

Recording reflections you could not fathom.

I made my world perform its utmost for you.

You took it all in with an incredulous

Like a mother handed her new

By the midwife.

Your frenzy made me giddy.

It woke up my dumb, ecstatic

Of fifteen years before.

My

Came that black night on the Grantchester road.

I sucked the throaty thin woe of a

Out of my wetted knuckle, by a

Where a tawny owl was enquiring.

Suddenly it swooped up, splaying its

Into my face, taking me for a post.

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Ted Hughes

Edward James Hughes OM OBE FRSL (17 August 1930 – 28 October 1998) was an English poet, translator, and children's writer. Critics frequently ra…

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