The Owl.BY THE REV. JOHN MTTFORD.Owl! that lovest the boding sky—In the murky air,What saw’st thou there?For I heard, through the fog, thy screaming cry.“The maple’s headWas glowing red,And red were the wings of the Autumn sky;But a redder gleamRose from the stream,That dabbled my feet, as I glided by!”Owl! that lovest the stormy sky,Speak! oh speak!What crimson’d thy beak,And hung on the lids of thy staring eye?“’Twas blood! ’twas blood!And it rose like a flood,And for this I screamed as I glided by.”Owl! that lovest the midnight sky,Again, again—Where are the twain?Look! while the moon is hurrying by—“In the thicket’s shadeThe one is laid;You may see, through the boughs, his moveless eye.”Owl! that lovest the darkened sky,A step beyondFrom the silent pond,There rose a low and murmuring cry“O’er the water’s edge,Through the trampled sedgeA bubble burst, and gurgled by;My eyes were dim,But I looked from the brim,And I saw, in the weeds, a dead man lie!”Owl! that lovest the moonless sky,Where the casements blazeWith the faggot’s rays,Look! oh look! what seest thou there?Owl! what’s this?—That snort and hiss?And why do thy feathers shiver and stare?“’Tis he! ’tis he!He sits ’mid the three—And a breathless woman is on the stair.”Owl! that lovest the cloudy sky,Where clank the chainsThrough the prison panesWhat there thou hearest tell to me!“In her midnight dream,’Tis a woman’s scream,And she calls on one—on one of the three,”Look in once more,Through the grated door,“’Tis a soul that prays in agony.”Owl! that hatest the morning sky,On thy pinions gray—Away! away!I must pray in charity,From midnight chime,To morning prime,“Miserere, Domine.”
BY THE REV. JOHN MTTFORD.
Owl! that lovest the boding sky—In the murky air,What saw’st thou there?For I heard, through the fog, thy screaming cry.“The maple’s headWas glowing red,And red were the wings of the Autumn sky;But a redder gleamRose from the stream,That dabbled my feet, as I glided by!”Owl! that lovest the stormy sky,Speak! oh speak!What crimson’d thy beak,And hung on the lids of thy staring eye?“’Twas blood! ’twas blood!And it rose like a flood,And for this I screamed as I glided by.”Owl! that lovest the midnight sky,Again, again—Where are the twain?Look! while the moon is hurrying by—“In the thicket’s shadeThe one is laid;You may see, through the boughs, his moveless eye.”Owl! that lovest the darkened sky,A step beyondFrom the silent pond,There rose a low and murmuring cry“O’er the water’s edge,Through the trampled sedgeA bubble burst, and gurgled by;My eyes were dim,But I looked from the brim,And I saw, in the weeds, a dead man lie!”Owl! that lovest the moonless sky,Where the casements blazeWith the faggot’s rays,Look! oh look! what seest thou there?Owl! what’s this?—That snort and hiss?And why do thy feathers shiver and stare?“’Tis he! ’tis he!He sits ’mid the three—And a breathless woman is on the stair.”Owl! that lovest the cloudy sky,Where clank the chainsThrough the prison panesWhat there thou hearest tell to me!“In her midnight dream,’Tis a woman’s scream,And she calls on one—on one of the three,”Look in once more,Through the grated door,“’Tis a soul that prays in agony.”Owl! that hatest the morning sky,On thy pinions gray—Away! away!I must pray in charity,From midnight chime,To morning prime,“Miserere, Domine.”
Owl! that lovest the boding sky—In the murky air,What saw’st thou there?For I heard, through the fog, thy screaming cry.“The maple’s headWas glowing red,And red were the wings of the Autumn sky;But a redder gleamRose from the stream,That dabbled my feet, as I glided by!”Owl! that lovest the stormy sky,Speak! oh speak!What crimson’d thy beak,And hung on the lids of thy staring eye?“’Twas blood! ’twas blood!And it rose like a flood,And for this I screamed as I glided by.”Owl! that lovest the midnight sky,Again, again—Where are the twain?Look! while the moon is hurrying by—“In the thicket’s shadeThe one is laid;You may see, through the boughs, his moveless eye.”Owl! that lovest the darkened sky,A step beyondFrom the silent pond,There rose a low and murmuring cry“O’er the water’s edge,Through the trampled sedgeA bubble burst, and gurgled by;My eyes were dim,But I looked from the brim,And I saw, in the weeds, a dead man lie!”Owl! that lovest the moonless sky,Where the casements blazeWith the faggot’s rays,Look! oh look! what seest thou there?Owl! what’s this?—That snort and hiss?And why do thy feathers shiver and stare?“’Tis he! ’tis he!He sits ’mid the three—And a breathless woman is on the stair.”Owl! that lovest the cloudy sky,Where clank the chainsThrough the prison panesWhat there thou hearest tell to me!“In her midnight dream,’Tis a woman’s scream,And she calls on one—on one of the three,”Look in once more,Through the grated door,“’Tis a soul that prays in agony.”Owl! that hatest the morning sky,On thy pinions gray—Away! away!I must pray in charity,From midnight chime,To morning prime,“Miserere, Domine.”
Owl! that lovest the boding sky—In the murky air,What saw’st thou there?For I heard, through the fog, thy screaming cry.“The maple’s headWas glowing red,And red were the wings of the Autumn sky;But a redder gleamRose from the stream,That dabbled my feet, as I glided by!”
Owl! that lovest the boding sky—
In the murky air,
What saw’st thou there?
For I heard, through the fog, thy screaming cry.
“The maple’s head
Was glowing red,
And red were the wings of the Autumn sky;
But a redder gleam
Rose from the stream,
That dabbled my feet, as I glided by!”
Owl! that lovest the stormy sky,Speak! oh speak!What crimson’d thy beak,And hung on the lids of thy staring eye?“’Twas blood! ’twas blood!And it rose like a flood,And for this I screamed as I glided by.”
Owl! that lovest the stormy sky,
Speak! oh speak!
What crimson’d thy beak,
And hung on the lids of thy staring eye?
“’Twas blood! ’twas blood!
And it rose like a flood,
And for this I screamed as I glided by.”
Owl! that lovest the midnight sky,Again, again—Where are the twain?Look! while the moon is hurrying by—“In the thicket’s shadeThe one is laid;You may see, through the boughs, his moveless eye.”
Owl! that lovest the midnight sky,
Again, again—
Where are the twain?
Look! while the moon is hurrying by—
“In the thicket’s shade
The one is laid;
You may see, through the boughs, his moveless eye.”
Owl! that lovest the darkened sky,A step beyondFrom the silent pond,There rose a low and murmuring cry“O’er the water’s edge,Through the trampled sedgeA bubble burst, and gurgled by;My eyes were dim,But I looked from the brim,And I saw, in the weeds, a dead man lie!”
Owl! that lovest the darkened sky,
A step beyond
From the silent pond,
There rose a low and murmuring cry
“O’er the water’s edge,
Through the trampled sedge
A bubble burst, and gurgled by;
My eyes were dim,
But I looked from the brim,
And I saw, in the weeds, a dead man lie!”
Owl! that lovest the moonless sky,Where the casements blazeWith the faggot’s rays,Look! oh look! what seest thou there?Owl! what’s this?—That snort and hiss?And why do thy feathers shiver and stare?“’Tis he! ’tis he!He sits ’mid the three—And a breathless woman is on the stair.”
Owl! that lovest the moonless sky,
Where the casements blaze
With the faggot’s rays,
Look! oh look! what seest thou there?
Owl! what’s this?—
That snort and hiss?
And why do thy feathers shiver and stare?
“’Tis he! ’tis he!
He sits ’mid the three—
And a breathless woman is on the stair.”
Owl! that lovest the cloudy sky,Where clank the chainsThrough the prison panesWhat there thou hearest tell to me!“In her midnight dream,’Tis a woman’s scream,And she calls on one—on one of the three,”Look in once more,Through the grated door,“’Tis a soul that prays in agony.”
Owl! that lovest the cloudy sky,
Where clank the chains
Through the prison panes
What there thou hearest tell to me!
“In her midnight dream,
’Tis a woman’s scream,
And she calls on one—on one of the three,”
Look in once more,
Through the grated door,
“’Tis a soul that prays in agony.”
Owl! that hatest the morning sky,On thy pinions gray—Away! away!I must pray in charity,From midnight chime,To morning prime,“Miserere, Domine.”
Owl! that hatest the morning sky,
On thy pinions gray—
Away! away!
I must pray in charity,
From midnight chime,
To morning prime,
“Miserere, Domine.”