Hawk Roosting by Ted Hughes
I sit in the top of the wood, my eyes closed.
Inaction, no falsifying 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 foot
Or 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.
------------
It shows how undeveloped my appreciation of poetry is that the poem I've chosen is one that I posted about back on the old forum. It's still the only one I know well.
As I said back then, I find it frustrating that the internet is full of allegorical interpretations of this poem, the hawk representing the Nazis or violent destructive humanity, for example. But it's not an allegory. I find myself wondering if the people who interpet it that way have ever seen a hawk before. Probably what's happening is that with the wider exposure to literary and film and art criticism that's been enabled by the internet, bad interpretations abound, with some folks apparently thinking that a non-allegorical interpretation of any work of art is simple-minded.
But it's the other way around. Hughes is describing what he appears to be describing, and that's hard. It's about a hawk, and as he said himself later, about nature in general.
I'm pretty much with Tolkien, although I'm not sure about "in all its manifestations":
I cordially dislike allegory in all its manifestations, and always have done so since I grew old and wary enough to detect its presence. I much prefer history – true or feigned– with its varied applicability to the thought and experience of readers. I think that many confuse applicability with allegory, but the one resides in the freedom of the reader, and the other in the purposed domination of the author. — Tolkien
But there's a deep difficulty about the poem, the thing that makes it interesting. The poem doesn't take the form of the poet's observations. It's the hawk talking, with some level of human-style self-awareness. To show the purity of an animal in contrast to the artifice of human lives (at least as the hawk sees it), but using a human point of view, is quite something. It's anthropomorphism but doesn't feel like it.
One thing about it I don't understand. Maybe poetry heads here can help. I think I get the full stops, but some of the other punctuation seems arbitrary to me. But it must be very deliberate.