Ted Hughes Poetry

Ted Hughes Poems

Hawk Roosting
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... more

Poet: Ted Hughes

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Crow's Nerve Fails
Crow, feeling his brain slip,
Finds his every feather the fossil of a murder.

Who murdered all these?
These living dead, that root in his nerves and his blood
Till he is visibly black?... more

Poet: Ted Hughes

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