February 23, 2020


pecking the leaves daintily,flit they from startled night.Now doth he slumber in the improvised summerhouse,in the wild,with the moonbeam parting rays,sinking behind hills lonely spray carols by lovely Whippowil,over yonder wood crowned hill its curtain twillight drops,softly over fields to hear Whippowil sing.His song bed veiled dusky with music throbs and thrills adorns the nightways with warm and musky,over meadows fluting cry ghostly grim startling,charmed out of twilight esoteric dim,solemn laybirds,lay lonesome in joyless night.


The White Owls in belfry sits,velvet pinions,darkened flight,lived in the hollow trees,supreme monarchy of the night amidst the black yews shelter,nestled in a row,immovable perch chirps the morose away of the fallen sun.Oracular Owl sits on a limb,the brown owl in the ivy bush,horny beak beneath he cowls.In the hollow trees,doth he lived,the spectral owl despised in the sunshine hour.Sweet Suffolk Owl,so trimly dight adorned with feathers animated the forester's odysey.A weary woodman crossing the crowded furze heath,rocking homeward and the Owl's cry,whewing in circling whirls alight him to hear the whizzes and rustling ling of thetimbrous tread,trampling beneath the squatting thorn andlonely spot teases that spurredthe jarring noises of the night.From the insensate plow to the mottled morn,horror voices utter with naivety,the oracles of distant clouds.O Patridges,o patridges,beneath the alders,beneath the hemlocks,across the brooks and hills,furtive gazes and pompous plummage and peregrinatory tentacles