Song -- The owl

When cats run home and light is come

And dew is cold upon the ground,

And the far-off stream is dumb,

And the whirring sail goes round;

Alone and warming his five wits,

The white owl in the belfry sits.

When merry milkmaids click the latch,

And rarely smells the new-mown hay,

And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch

Twice or thrice his round-e-lay;

Alone and warming his five wits,

The white owl in the belfry sits.