why do you think the poet closes with the owl's hooting in THE owl critic poem by James Thomas Fields?
Answers
"Who stuffed that white owl?"
No one spoke in the shop,
The barber was busy, and he couldn't stop;
The customers, waiting their turns, were all reading
The "Daily," the "Herald," the "Post," little heeding
The young man who blurted out such a blunt question;
Not one raised a head, or even made a suggestion;
And the barber kept on shaving.
"Don't you see, Mr. Brown,"
Cried the youth, with a frown,
"How wrong the whole thing is,
How preposterous each wing is,
How flattened the head is, how jammed down the neck is --
In short, the whole owl, what an ignorant wreck 't is!
I make no apology;
I've learned owl-eology.
I've passed days and nights in a hundred collections,
And cannot be blinded to any deflections
Arising from unskilful fingers that fail
To stuff a bird right, from his beak to his tail.
Mister Brown! Mr. Brown!
Do take that bird down,
Or you'll soon be the laughingstock all over town!"
And the barber kept on shaving.
"I've studied owls,
And other night-fowls,
And I tell you
What I know to be true;
An owl cannot roost
With his limbs so unloosed;
No owl in this world
Ever had his claws curled,
Ever had his legs slanted,
Ever had his bill canted,
Ever had his neck screwed
Into that attitude.
He cant do it, because
'Tis against all bird-laws.
Anatomy teaches,
Ornithology preaches,
An owl has a toe
That can't turn out so!
I've made the white owl my study for years,
And to see such a job almost moves me to tears!
Mr. Brown, I'm amazed
You should be so gone crazed
As to put up a bird
In that posture absurd!
To look at that owl really brings on a dizziness;
The man who stuffed him don't half know his business!"
And the barber kept shaving.
"Examine those eyes
I'm filled with surprise
Taxidermists should pass
Off on you such poor glass;
So unnatural they seem
They'd make Audubon scream,
And John Burroughs laugh
To encounter such chaff.
Do take that bird down;
Have him stuffed again, Brown!"
And the barber kept on shaving!
"With some sawdust and bark
I could stuff in the dark
An owl better than that.
I could make an old hat
Look more like an owl
Than that horrid fowl,
Stuck up there so stiff like a side of coarse leather.
In fact, about him there's not one natural feather."
Just then, with a wink and a sly normal lurch,
The owl, very gravely, got down from his perch,
Walked around, and regarded his fault-finding critic
(Who thought he was stuffed) with a glance analytic,
And then fairly hooted, as if he should say:
"Your learning's at fault this time, anyway:
Don't waste it again on a live bird, I pray.
I'm an owl; you're another. Sir Critic, good day!"
And the barber kept on shaving.
The Owl is a poem written on the First World War by Edward Thomas, one of the most famous authors. Most of his poems deal not with the trenches directly, but the war is more oblique. It is a poem about fulfillment and poverty, which draws on Thomas ' frontline experience. It is also a poem on remorse and guilt feelings.
Explanation:
- The poet is fatigued, hungry and cold, but rest is going to get into "the sweetest under a roof." He has some physical discomfort. The poem's first word is ' downhill. ' He's made the effort to go up the hill and from now on it will be simpler for him.
- While the poet regains comfort, repose and food, he unexpectedly listens to the cries of the owl that are articulated as "melancholy" and "no madness" and penetrate night's silence.
- The scream of the owls reminds Thomas of the sufferings he endured on the cliffs, but more so reminds him of the more constant suffering of those not able to escape. He said he "run" from it. The cry of the owl seems to be his consciousness and his ability to empathize. The owl represents for Thomas “all who lay under the stars, soldiers and poor, unable to rejoice.
- The food is unexpectedly "salted." It means he feels responsible for the suffering he has avoided and that others can not. He loses the enjoyment of the inn abruptly in some way.