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Arthur Symons - The Night Owl
Work rating: Low

I hear the little Owl shriek 
Along the windless ways, 
As if its inhuman soul were fain to seek 
The heart of the mystery of its days; 
And as I hear the beat of its wings 
That shriek to mine own Spirit clings. 

It shrieks as the moon`s shadow sways 
Over the shaken grass, 
And something Strange in the Owl`s soul sighs Alas 

And God, I think, before the heavens scowl 
Blesses the little night Owl.
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