‘Up in the Wind’ by Edward Thomas is about three main characters, the speaker, the girl, and the public house. The speaker is watching a girl do her chores and clean the tavern, and the girl is mindful, though with anger and bitterness, discussing the negative attributes of the public house. The public house is shown in all aspects, for what it is, what it can become, and what it once was.
" I could wring the old thing's neck that put it there!
A public-house! It may be public for birds,
Squirrels and suchlike, ghosts of charcoal-burners
And highwaymen." The wild girl laughed. " But I
Hate it since I came back from Kennington.
I gave up a good place." Her cockney accent
Made her and the house seem wilder by calling up —
Only to be subdued at once by wildness —
The idea of London there in that forest parlour,
Low and small among those towering beeches
And the one bulging butt that's like a font.
Her eyes flashed up; she shook her hair away
From eyes and mouth, as if to shriek again;
Then sighed back to her scrubbing. While I drank
I might have mused of coaches and highwaymen,
Charcoal-burners and life that loves the wild.
For who now used these roads except myself,
A market waggon every other Wednesday,
A solitary tramp, some very fresh one
Ignorant of these eleven houseless miles,
A motorist from a distance slowing down
To taste whatever luxury he can
In having North Downs clear behind, South clear before,
And being midway between two railway lines
Far out of sight or sound of them? There are
Some houses — down the by-lanes; and a few
Are visible — when their damsons are in bloom.
But the land is wild, and there's a spirit of wildness
Much older, crying when the stone-curlew yodels
His sea and mountain cry, high up in Spring.
He nests in fields where still the gorse is free as
When all was open and common. Common 'tis named
And calls itself, because the bracken and gorse
Still hold the hedge where plough and scythe have chased them.
Once on a time 'tis plain that 'The White Horse'
Stood merely on the border of a waste
Where horse or cart picked its own course afresh.
On all sides then, as now, paths ran to the inn;
And now a farm-track takes you from a gate.
Two roads cross, and not a house in sight
Except 'The White Horse' in this clump of beeches.
It hides from either road, a field's breadth back;
And it's the trees you see, and not the house,
Both near and far, when the clump's the highest thing
And homely, too, upon a far horizon
To one who knows there is an inn within.
" 'Twould have been different" the wild girl shrieked, " suppose
That widow had married another blacksmith and
Kept on the business. This parlour was the smithy.
If she had done, there might never have been an inn:
And I, in that case, might never have been born.
Years ago, when this was all a wood
And the smith had charcoal-burners for company,
A man from a beech-country in the shires
Came with an engine and a little boy
(To feed the engine) to cut up timber here.
It all happened years ago. The smith
Had died, his widow had set up an alehouse —
I could wring the old thing's neck for thinking of it.
Well, I suppose they fell in love, the widow
And my great-uncle that sawed up the timber:
Leastways they married. The little boy stayed on.
He was my father." She thought she'd scrub again,
— "I draw the ale, and he grows fat" she muttered —
But only studied the hollows in the bricks
And chose among her thoughts in stirring silence.
The clock ticked, and the big saucepan lid
Heaved as the cabbage bubbled, and the girl
Questioned the fire and spoke: "My father, he
Took to the land. A mile of it is worth
A guinea; for by that time all the trees
Except those few about the house were gone:
That's all that's left of the forest unless you count
The bottoms of the charcoal-burners' fires —
We plough one up at times. Did you ever see
Our signboard?" No. The post and empty frame
I knew. Without them I could not have guessed
The low grey house and its one stack under trees
Was a public-house and not a hermitage.
"But can that empty frame be any use?
Now I should like to see a good white horse
Swing there, a really beautiful white horse,
Galloping one side, being painted on the other."
"But would you like to hear it swing all night
And all day? All I ever had to thank
The wind for was for blowing the sign down.
Time after time it blew down and I could sleep.
At last they fixed it, and it took a thief
To move it, and we've never had another:
It's lying at the bottom of our pond.
But no one's moved the wood from off the hill
There at the back, although it makes a noise
When the wind blows, as if a train was running
The other side, a train that never stops
Or ends. And the linen crackles on the line
Like a wood fire rising." "But if you had the sign
You might draw company. What about Kennington?"
She bent down to her scrubbing with "Not me.
Not back to Kennington. Here I was born,
And I've a notion on these windy nights
Here I shall die. Perhaps I want to die here.
I reckon I shall stay. But I do wish
The road was nearer and the wind farther off,
Or once now and then quite still, though when I die
I'd have it blowing that I might go with it
Somewhere distant, where there are trees no more
And I could wake and not know where I was
Nor even wonder if they would roar again.
Look at those calves."
Between the open door
And the trees two calves were wading in the pond,
Grazing the water here and there and thinking,
Sipping and thinking, both happily, neither long.
The water wrinkled, but they sipped and thought,
As careless of the wind as it of us.
" Look at those calves. Hark at the trees again."
Summary
‘Up in the Wind’ by Edward Thomas depicts a story of a young girl who is upset about the creation of a public house on once-wild land.
The story follows a girl telling the history of the public house, as well as crafting a detailed description of its surroundings and meaning to the people who know about its location. Finally, she attempts to sway the speaker into thinking that the public house is not worthy of the land it sits on and that it would have been better used elsewhere.
Poem Form
The poem is written in the form of a dramatic monologue. Dramatic monologues are often used when a story with a large plot takes the poem’s presence. This poem touches on multiple topics through the story told by a girl to the narrator. The structure has no rhyme scheme but does allow for diverse stanza lengths.
Characters
There are three main characters in this story. The first is the main character, an unknown man who is assumed to be a traveler who knows about the tavern as he seems to have traveled this road often.
The second character is the girl who works at the tavern. She is the child of the tavern owners but does not like her father or the public house. Instead, she prefers the wild of nature that should have been where the tavern now stood.
The last is the public house. The tavern is talked about so much and causes such disruption that it has to be listed as a character. It affects multiple people and nature throughout the story, and we also get a history of its life.
Detailed Analysis
Stanza One
” I could wring the old thing’s neck that put it there!
A public-house! It may be public for birds,
Squirrels and suchlike, ghosts of charcoal-burners
And highwaymen.” The wild girl laughed. ” But I
Hate it since I came back from Kennington.
I gave up a good place.” Her cockney accent
Made her and the house seem wilder by calling up —
Only to be subdued at once by wildness —
The idea of London there in that forest parlour,
Low and small among those towering beeches
And the one bulging butt that’s like a font.
The stanzas in ‘Up in the Wind‘ are longer than most and must be broken down into chunks to understand completely. The main character is a public house worker. A public house is similar to today’s pubs. The location of the public house seems to be on a well-traveled road, but one the girl doesn’t think needs more attention.
She seems to believe the public is identified by nature, not by society’s standards, equating the ability for squirrels or other animals to enter as public and the idea of London with its towering tree-like buildings as a place she wishes not to go.
The girl is called wild multiple times throughout the poem, which can mean loud and abrasive, as women are expected to be the opposite. It’s also important to note that the speaker is not the girl but a man sitting in the public house, watching her and everything else.
Stanza Two
Her eyes flashed up; she shook her hair away
From eyes and mouth, as if to shriek again;
Then sighed back to her scrubbing. While I drank
I might have mused of coaches and highwaymen,
Charcoal-burners and life that loves the wild.
For who now used these roads except myself,
A market waggon every other Wednesday,
A solitary tramp, some very fresh one
Ignorant of these eleven houseless miles,
A motorist from a distance slowing down
To taste whatever luxury he can
In having North Downs clear behind, South clear before,
And being midway between two railway lines
Far out of sight or sound of them? There are
Some houses — down the by-lanes; and a few
Are visible — when their damsons are in bloom.
But the land is wild, and there’s a spirit of wildness
Much older, crying when the stone-curlew yodels
His sea and mountain cry, high up in Spring.
He nests in fields where still the gorse is free as
When all was open and common. Common ’tis named
And calls itself, because the bracken and gorse
Still hold the hedge where plough and scythe have chased them.
Once on a time ’tis plain that ‘The White Horse’
Stood merely on the border of a waste
Where horse or cart picked its own course afresh.
On all sides then, as now, paths ran to the inn;
And now a farm-track takes you from a gate.
The girl looks as if she is to make another statement about her anger but instead goes back to cleaning. The speaker makes a better point of giving the location of the public house; though it’s still vague physically, it brings a lot to the table.
He says he knows people who have always known this road and those who are new to it, that it lies with the north behind and the south before. He says the house is midway between two railways without being able to hear either. This is also the last destination to get any luxury in either direction for quite a few miles. A few houses are nearby, even less visible, as no one stays. The land is wild.
This first section of the stanza shows the middle of nowhere, the lost traveler, unknown destination concept of the story. The place is a stop for travelers on their journey, even mentioning that the road goes north to south, meaning the sun rises and sets perfectly on either side of the road, and likewise, the public house.
The second part of the second stanza discusses the changes made because of the Inn. This place was once wild, even more so than now. Then, there were shrubs untouched by scythes and roads made only from wagons, with no unnatural pathways. Animals were housed wherever they pleased. Currently, there are firmly placed roads leading to this Inn, this public house, for travelers to stop at, a place that people have never stopped before.
Stanza Three
Two roads cross, and not a house in sight
Except ‘The White Horse’ in this clump of beeches.
It hides from either road, a field’s breadth back;
And it’s the trees you see, and not the house,
Both near and far, when the clump’s the highest thing
And homely, too, upon a far horizon
To one who knows there is an inn within.
The third stanza starts with a crossroads, which again shows the representation of travelers with no destination ending up at this public house. The Inn is not readily seen by those who do not know of its existence and is surrounded by trees even though, earlier in the poem, it is mentioned to be on a highway of sorts.
It seems like a treasure now, as if the narrator is equating its smartness to something precious and unsullied. This is interesting as the girl thinks the Inn has already sullied her homeland, but the man feels the Inn itself is unsullied based on the lesser amount of people who know about it.
Stanza Four
” ‘Twould have been different” the wild girl shrieked, ” suppose
That widow had married another blacksmith and
Kept on the business. This parlour was the smithy.
If she had done, there might never have been an inn:
And I, in that case, might never have been born.
Years ago, when this was all a wood
And the smith had charcoal-burners for company,
A man from a beech-country in the shires
Came with an engine and a little boy
(To feed the engine) to cut up timber here.
It all happened years ago. The smith
Had died, his widow had set up an alehouse —
I could wring the old thing’s neck for thinking of it.
Well, I suppose they fell in love, the widow
And my great-uncle that sawed up the timber:
Leastways they married. The little boy stayed on.
He was my father.” She thought she’d scrub again,
— “I draw the ale, and he grows fat” she muttered —
But only studied the hollows in the bricks
And chose among her thoughts in stirring silence.
The clock ticked, and the big saucepan lid
Heaved as the cabbage bubbled, and the girl
Questioned the fire and spoke: “My father, he
Took to the land. A mile of it is worth
A guinea; for by that time all the trees
Except those few about the house were gone:
That’s all that’s left of the forest unless you count
The bottoms of the charcoal-burners’ fires —
We plough one up at times. Did you ever see
Our signboard?” No. The post and empty frame
I knew. Without them I could not have guessed
The low grey house and its one stack under trees
Was a public-house and not a hermitage.
“But can that empty frame be any use?
Now I should like to see a good white horse
Swing there, a really beautiful white horse,
Galloping one side, being painted on the other.”
“But would you like to hear it swing all night
And all day? All I ever had to thank
The wind for was for blowing the sign down.
Time after time it blew down and I could sleep.
At last they fixed it, and it took a thief
To move it, and we’ve never had another:
It’s lying at the bottom of our pond.
But no one’s moved the wood from off the hill
There at the back, although it makes a noise
When the wind blows, as if a train was running
The other side, a train that never stops
Or ends. And the linen crackles on the line
Like a wood fire rising.” “But if you had the sign
You might draw company. What about Kennington?”
She bent down to her scrubbing with “Not me.
Not back to Kennington. Here I was born,
And I’ve a notion on these windy nights
Here I shall die. Perhaps I want to die here.
I reckon I shall stay. But I do wish
The road was nearer and the wind farther off,
Or once now and then quite still, though when I die
I’d have it blowing that I might go with it
Somewhere distant, where there are trees no more
And I could wake and not know where I was
Nor even wonder if they would roar again.
Look at those calves.”
In lines 19-29, you see why the girl seems to hate her father. She says he bought up all the land surrounding the Inn and ruined it. He plowed it and used it for his resources. So, while the speaker has mentioned earlier he felt the Inn was surrounded by wild, it seems this wild was not the wild it once was. The girl thinks the land is worth more than what was done to it, and the reader feels she is talking about nature and perhaps about herself as well.
In lines 29-41, the girl mentions how there is no signage for the Inn, which prevents some visitors from traveling in because they do not know it is a tavern. This helps her sleep at night, knowing no one will approach the Inn without welcome due to the lack of signage. The girl says they had a sign once, but the wind blew it away, and she thanked it gratefully. But the sign was replaced, and a thief took it. It was never replaced after that incident, and the girl proudly reveals herself as the thief and that the sign is at the bottom of her lake.
The stanza’s final lines portray the girl’s opinion of her birthplace. She would like to die here and stay here, even though she has complained about the Inn’s existence for the entire poem. She mentions the pile of wood (from when her father fed wood to the smithery) that was never taken down and made noise in the wind like a train.
She mentions that she prefers solitude when the speaker suggests a sign to signify the Inn, as the wood blocks the view of travelers. She says no to the idea; she’d rather the quiet and wait to die one day here. She leaves the stanza by saying she does not love the sound of the wind but wants to go with it when she dies, to fly and be somewhere new when she wakes up.
Stanza Five
Between the open door
And the trees two calves were wading in the pond,
Grazing the water here and there and thinking,
Sipping and thinking, both happily, neither long.
The water wrinkled, but they sipped and thought,
As careless of the wind as it of us.
” Look at those calves. Hark at the trees again.”
Two baby deer approach the water through the trees, just seen out the door. They sip happily, undisturbed by the wind or the tavern’s presence. The inclusion of this image suggests that the wild is still here, even if the tavern attempted to deter it.
The last line focuses on the young new life of nature and brings the focus back to the trees and away from the public house, which seems insignificant among the world around it now.
FAQ
A public house is similar to a tavern or Inn of the present day.
The poem is from the perspective man in the tavern, most likely to provide distance from the biased viewpoint of the girl, who has apparent opinions presented throughout the poem, where the speaker offers none.
The girl hates the public house because she feels connected with nature, and the house takes away the nature that once stood in its place. Yet, she wants to stay because she acknowledges the remote location and senses that elsewhere, there would be less nature and freedom than here.
Wind represents nature’s call and anguish at the loss of a piece of itself built over by the public house. The wind also means freedom, as the girl says she wishes, when she dies, to be free of this place and travel to somewhere new but with no destination.
Similar Poetry
Readers who enjoyed this piece should also consider reading some other Edward Thomas poems. For example:
- ‘Aspens’ – speaks on the nature of grief and how poets play a role in the preservation of memory.
- ‘Beauty’ – contains the poet’s definition of what beauty is and how he encounters and experiences it in his life.
- ‘Adlestrop’ – describes an occasion when the poet was taking the train from Oxfordshire to Gloucestershire, and it had to make an unscheduled stop.
