There, where the rusty iron lies,
The rooks are cawing all the day.
Perhaps no man, until he dies,
Will understand them, what they say.
The evening makes the sky like clay.
The slow wind waits for night to rise.
The world is half-content. But they
Still trouble all the trees with cries,
That know, and cannot put away,
The yearning to the soul that flies
From day to night, from night to day.
Charles Sorley’s Rooks is a hauntingly introspective poem that grapples with themes of existential yearning, the inscrutability of nature, and the human struggle to find meaning in a transient world. Written during the early 20th century—a period marked by the upheavals of World War I—the poem reflects the broader anxieties of its time while also transcending them to explore universal questions of mortality and understanding. Sorley, a young soldier who died in battle at the age of 20, imbues the poem with a sense of melancholy and unresolved tension, as if the speaker is caught between the desire for comprehension and the inevitability of silence.
Through its stark imagery, rhythmic cadence, and philosophical undertones, Rooks invites readers to contemplate the limitations of human perception and the persistent, unsettling cries of the natural world that seem to echo our own unspoken fears. This analysis will examine the poem’s historical context, its use of literary devices, its thematic concerns, and its emotional resonance, demonstrating how Sorley crafts a meditation on the unknowable.
Understanding Rooks requires situating it within both the broader literary movements of the early 20th century and Sorley’s tragically short life. Born in 1895, Sorley was part of the generation that came of age amidst the cataclysm of World War I. Unlike many war poets who wrote explicitly about the horrors of the trenches, Sorley’s work often carries a subtler, more philosophical tone, grappling with existential questions rather than direct depictions of battle.
Rooks was likely written during Sorley’s time at Marlborough College or shortly before his enlistment, a period when he was deeply engaged with literature and nature. The poem’s preoccupation with unanswered questions and the "yearning" of the soul suggests a young man acutely aware of life’s fleeting nature—an awareness that would soon be tragically confirmed by his death in the Battle of Loos in 1915.
The rooks themselves, carrion birds often associated with omens and death, serve as a fitting symbol for the era. Their incessant cawing mirrors the disquiet of a world on the brink of war, where traditional certainties were crumbling, and the future was uncertain. Sorley’s choice of these birds—rather than more traditionally "poetic" creatures like nightingales or larks—underscores the poem’s grim yet contemplative mood.
Sorley’s poem is rich in evocative imagery and carefully constructed sound patterns that enhance its meditative quality. The opening lines—
"There, where the rusty iron lies,
The rooks are cawing all the day."
—immediately establish a scene of decay and restlessness. The "rusty iron" suggests abandonment, industry left to ruin, while the rooks’ constant cawing introduces a sense of unresolved noise, a sound that persists without offering clarity. The poem’s setting—a liminal space between day and night ("The evening makes the sky like clay")—further reinforces the theme of transition and uncertainty.
The wind, described as "slow" and waiting "for night to rise," personifies nature as an idle yet ominous presence, as though the world itself is biding its time before some inevitable change. The phrase "The world is half-content" is particularly striking, implying a state of uneasy compromise, a suspension between fulfillment and dissatisfaction.
The rooks, however, disrupt this half-peace:
"Still trouble all the trees with cries,
That know, and cannot put away,
The yearning to the soul that flies
From day to night, from night to day."
Here, Sorley employs enjambment to create a flowing, restless rhythm, mirroring the ceaseless movement of the soul’s yearning. The rooks "know" something—perhaps the futility of human understanding—but are unable to articulate it in any way that brings resolution. Their cries are not just sounds but manifestations of an eternal, unanswerable longing.
At its core, Rooks is a poem about the limits of human comprehension. The lines—
"Perhaps no man, until he dies,
Will understand them, what they say."
—suggest that full understanding is only possible in death, a sentiment that resonates with both philosophical pessimism and the existential dread of Sorley’s wartime generation. The rooks’ cries become a metaphor for all the things humanity strains to grasp but never can: the meaning of suffering, the nature of the soul, the silence that follows life.
The "yearning" described in the final stanza is cyclical, moving "from day to night, from night to day," implying that this longing is perpetual, never satisfied. This could be read as a commentary on the human condition—our endless search for meaning in a universe that offers no clear answers. The rooks, as creatures of instinct, perhaps understand this futility better than humans do, hence their relentless, troubled cries.
Sorley’s Rooks can be fruitfully compared to other works of early modernist poetry that grapple with disillusionment and the breakdown of meaning. T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land (1922), for instance, similarly employs fragmented imagery and a sense of spiritual desolation, though Sorley’s poem is more concise and less allusive.
Philosophically, the poem aligns with Schopenhauerian ideas about the ceaseless striving of the will and the inevitability of suffering. The rooks’ cries could be seen as emblematic of the blind, irrational forces that drive existence—forces that humans futilely attempt to rationalize.
What makes Rooks so compelling is its quiet despair, its refusal to offer consolation. Unlike Romantic nature poetry, which often seeks transcendence or harmony with the natural world, Sorley’s poem presents nature as alien and inscrutable. The rooks do not sing; they caw—a harsh, discordant sound that refuses to be beautiful.
Yet there is a strange comfort in the poem’s honesty. By acknowledging that some questions may never be answered, Sorley invites readers to sit with uncertainty, to accept the unresolved cries of the world without demanding resolution. In doing so, Rooks becomes not just a war poem, nor just a nature poem, but a profound meditation on the human struggle to find meaning amid silence.
Sorley’s own life—cut short before he could fully develop his poetic voice—lends the poem an added poignancy. The rooks’ cries seem to echo his own unanswered questions, his own yearning cut short by death. And yet, in these few brief stanzas, he achieves a kind of immortality, his words continuing to resonate long after his voice was silenced.
In the end, Rooks stands as a testament to poetry’s power to articulate the inarticulable—to give form to the cries we cannot understand, even if we can never fully decipher them.
Click the button below to print a cloze exercise of the poem analysis. This exercise is designed for classroom use.