Victory to the souls light.

Hawk Roosting Analysis

Author: Poetry of Ted Hughes Type: Poetry Views: 5936

I sit in the top of the wood, my eyes closed.

Inaction, no falsyfing dream

Between my hooked head and hooked feet:

Or in sleep rehearse perfect kills and eat.The convenience of the high trees!

The air's buoyancy and the sun's ray

Are of advantage to me;

And the earth's face upward for my inspection.My feet are locked upon the rough bark.

It took the whole of Creation

To produce my foot, my each feather:

Now I hold Creation in my footOr fly up, and revolve it all slowly-

I kill where I please because it is all mine.

There is no sophistry in my body:

My manners are tearing off heads-The allotment of death.

For the one path of my flight is direct

Through the bones of the living.

No arguments assert my right:The sun is behind me.

Nothing has changed since I began.

My eye has permitted no change.

I am going to keep things like this.