The Owl
(Barry Cornwall, 1787 - 1874)
In the hollow tree, in the grey old tower,
The sectral owl doth well ;
Dull, hated, despised in the sunshine hour,
But at dusk - he's abroad and well.
Not a bird of the forest e'er mates with him ;
All mock him outright by day,
But at night, when the woods grow still and dim,
The boldest will shrink away.
Oh, when the night falls, and roosts the
fowl,
Then, then is the reign of the horned owl !
And the owl hath a mate who is fond and bold,
And loveth the wood's deep gloom,
And with eyes like the shine of the moonshine
cold
She awaiteth her ghastly groom.
Not a feather she moves, not a carol she sings,
As she waits in her tree so still ;
But when her heart heareth his flapping wings,
She hoots out her welcome shrill.
Oh, when the moon shines and the dogs do
howl,
Then, then is the cry of the horned owl !
Mourn not for the owl nor his gloomy plight !
The owl hath his share of good ;
If a prisoner he be in the broad daylight,
He is lord in the dark green wood.
Nor lonely bird, nor his ghastly mate ;
They are each unto each a pride -
Thrice fonder, perhaps, since a strange dark fate
Hath rent them from all beside.
So when the night falls and dogs do howl,
Sing ho for the reign of the horned owl !
We know not alway who are kings by day,
But the king of the night is the bold brown owl.
The mark above ' horned ' tells us to give the word two syllables, pronouncing 'ed ' as a syllable.
' Groom,' in the second verse, is short for ' bridegroom.'
Which letter of the alphabet sounds to you like the softness and quietness of night ? Can you hear it running through this Poem ?
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