Poems
The Sea Fowler
The Baron hath the landward park, the fisher hath the sea;
But the rocky haunts of the sea-fowl belong alone to me.
The baron hunts the running deer, the fisher nets the brine;
But every bird that builds a nest on ocean-cliffs is mine.
Come on then, Jock and Alick, let’s to the sea-rocks bold:
I was train’d to take the sea-fowl ere I was five years old.
The wild sea roars, and lashes the granite crags below,
And round the misty islets the loud, strong tempests blow.
And let them blow! Roar wind and wave, they shall not me dismay;
I ’ve faced the eagle in her nest and snatch’d her young away.
The eagle shall not build her nest, proud bird although she be,
Nor yet the strong-wing’d cormorant, without the leave of me.
The eider-duck has laid her eggs, the tern doth hatch her young,
And the merry gull screams o’er her brood; but all to me belong.
Away, then, in the daylight, and back again ere eve;
The eagle could not rear her young, unless I gave her leave.
The baron hath the landward park, the fisher hath the sea;
But the rocky haunts of the sea-fowl belong alone to me.
But the rocky haunts of the sea-fowl belong alone to me.
The baron hunts the running deer, the fisher nets the brine;
But every bird that builds a nest on ocean-cliffs is mine.
Come on then, Jock and Alick, let’s to the sea-rocks bold:
I was train’d to take the sea-fowl ere I was five years old.
The wild sea roars, and lashes the granite crags below,
And round the misty islets the loud, strong tempests blow.
And let them blow! Roar wind and wave, they shall not me dismay;
I ’ve faced the eagle in her nest and snatch’d her young away.
The eagle shall not build her nest, proud bird although she be,
Nor yet the strong-wing’d cormorant, without the leave of me.
The eider-duck has laid her eggs, the tern doth hatch her young,
And the merry gull screams o’er her brood; but all to me belong.
Away, then, in the daylight, and back again ere eve;
The eagle could not rear her young, unless I gave her leave.
The baron hath the landward park, the fisher hath the sea;
But the rocky haunts of the sea-fowl belong alone to me.
Analysis (ai): The poem follows a regular ABAB rhyme scheme with alternating tetrameter and trimeter lines, creating a rhythmic, ballad-like cadence common in 19th-century verse; its simplicity supports oral recitation and folk-like storytelling, aligning with traditional forms popular in early Victorian poetry.
- Voice and Perspective: A first-person speaker asserts ownership over coastal nesting sites, not through legal claim but through intimate, habitual knowledge; this personal authority contrasts with the baron’s feudal privilege and the fisher’s economic labor, positioning the speaker as a liminal figure between land and sea.
- Power and Ownership: The repeated refrain equating possession with exclusivity redefines control—not through wealth or birth, but through lived experience and physical daring; this reframing subtly critiques class hierarchies even as it mirrors imperial attitudes toward nature.
- Nature and Domination: Birds are treated as resources under the speaker’s jurisdiction, with nesting acts subject to human permission; this anthropocentric view reflects contemporaneous beliefs about nature’s utility, yet the speaker’s intimate engagement adds ambiguity—part warden, part exploiter.
- Gender and Labor: Though not explicitly gendered, the speaker’s early training and physical endurance challenge typical domestic roles for women in the period; the poem quietly resists sentimental ideals of femininity found in much of the author’s contemporaneous poetry.
- Connection to Author’s Work: Unlike Howitt’s better-known moral and children’s poems emphasizing duty or empathy, this piece foregrounds autonomy and risk, standing out in her oeuvre for its assertive, almost feral individualism and lack of overt didacticism.
- Historical Context: During the 1830s–40s, when this was likely written, Romantic reverence for wild landscapes was giving way to scientific cataloging and resource management; the poem mirrors this shift, treating cliffs and birds not as sublime symbols but as domains of human oversight.
- Less-Discussed Angle: Rather than a celebration of freedom or wildness, the poem can be read as an allegory of regulatory power—anticipating modern environmental governance, where access to ecosystems is mediated by knowledge and claimed stewardship.
- Language and Tone: Diction remains plain but gains force through repetition and imperative mood; archaic contractions like “I ’ve” and “o’er” lend a timelessness without fully adopting older poetic diction, balancing accessibility with solemnity.
- Comparative Note: Unlike Wordsworth’s spiritual bond with nature or Tennyson’s melancholic grandeur, this poem focuses on pragmatic mastery; compared to Howitt’s other nature poems, it lacks moral closure, leaving tension between pride and predation unresolved.
Mary Howitt
(1799 – 1888)
Mary Howitt
(12 March 1799 – 30 January 1888) was an English writer, editor, translator and a pioneer of the women’s rights movement in the UK. She is most known as the author of the famous poem The Spider and the Fly. She translated several works by Hans Christian Andersen and Frederika Bremer. Some of her works were written in conjunction with her husband, William Howitt. Many, in verse and prose, were intended for young people.
